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MEMORIALS 


OF 


RICHARD  H.  RICHARDSON,  D.D. 


NEW    YORK 

ANSON    D.  F.  RANDOLPH    AND    COMPANY 
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Copyright,  189S, 
By.Octavia  W.  Richardson. 


JojHN ,  Wilson   \>'d  Son,  Gai^IBRIDge. 


TO 

ail  tl)£  Exm  ant)  JFattljfitl  Jrimlis  anti  Partsfjionets 

OF 

DOCTOR   RICHARDSON, 

JVhose  Ime  and  kindness  are  not  forgotten,  whether  in  this  world 
or  in  the  better  country, 

THIS    BOOK    IS    AFFFXTIONATELY    INSCRIBED 
BY    HIS   WIFE, 

OCTAVIA    WOODBRIDGE    RICHARDSON. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Biographical  Sketch 9-33 

By  Professor  Charles  L.  Shields,  D.  D. 

The  Chicago  Pastorate  : 

Extract  from  Dedication  Sermon 37 

Old  School  Presbyterianism  in  Chicago 41 

North  Presbyterian  Church,  Old  School 42 

Reminiscences  of  former  Chicago  Parishioners  •     •     •     •  43 

The  Newburyport  Pastorate  : 

Sketch  by  E.   K 51 

From  Mr.  Goodhue  to  Dr.    Richardson 53 

Extracts  from  Letters 54 

From  a  Letter  of  Dr.  Richardson  to  his  Wife      ....  56 

From  Mr.  Goodhue's  last  Letter  to  Dr.  Richardson     .     .  58 

The  Trenton  Pastorate : 

Sketches  by  Trenton  Friends 61 

From    the    Minutes   of   the    First    Presbyterian    Church, 

Trenton,  N.  J ■ 67 

Dr.   Richardson's  Retirement  (1887) 68 

Resolutions  on  Dr.   Richardson's  Resignation  ....  69 
Extracts  from  Letters  on  his  Resignation,  Illness,  etc.     70-72 


Funeral  Services  and  Public  Tributes:  Page 

Services  at  Rayhead 75 

Services  at  Newburyport 77 

Extracts  from  Newburyport  and  Trenton   Papers     .       78-79 

Extracts  from   Dr.  Gosman's  Sermon 79 

Resolutions  of  Churches  at  Trenton  and  Newburyport    .       84 
Tribute  of  the  Standard  Dictionary  Company      ...       85 

From  the  New  York  "  Observer  " 86 

From  Minutes  of  New  Brunswick  Presbytery      ...       87 
From  the  Synod  of  New  Jersey 89 

Letters  of  Sympathy 93-98 

Sermons  by  Dr.  Richard  H.  Richardson: 

I.     Family  Worship loi 

II.     By  Way  of  the  Sea 113 

III      Till  He  Come 125 


V_yUT  of  the  unforeseen,  whence  all  things  flow, 
Swiftly  the  future  days  shall  come  and  go ; 
And  friends  who  pen  these  lays  of  love  and  truth 
In  sunset  hours,  high  noon,  or  dawning  youth, 
Shall  with  them  pass  away,  to  come  no  more,  — 
Some  to  far  distant  lands,  some  to  the  silent  shore. 

But  as  thine  eyes  shall  on  these  pages  rest, 
From  other  far  off  climes,  or  East  or  West, 
E'en  from  the  land  unknown,  shall  one  by  one 
These  loved  ones  come,  and  as  in  days  long  gone, 
Shall  live  again,  —  unchanged  and  changeless  stand, 
And  speak  and  smile  and  weep,  and  clasp  thee  by  the 
hand. 

R.  H.  Richardson. 

Note.  —  Written  in  1850  for  the  first  page  of  an  album. 


MEMORIALS. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

\  FEW  flowers  are  here  laid  upon  the  grave  of  an 
^  ^  honored  minister  of  Christ.  No  attempt  has 
been  made  to  weave  them  into  a  conventional  garland. 
It  is  better  that  these  tributes  of  affection  and  friend- 
ship be  left  to  speak  for  themselves. 

The  story  of  a  Christian  life  is  seldom  eventful,  and 
must  always  lack  the  brilliancy  of  more  worldly  careers. 
But  there  is  no  other  style  of  life  so  complete,  so  con- 
sistent, and  so  noble.  None  so  complete,  because  it 
alone  develops  the  whole  man,  with  all  his  powers 
of  mind,  heart,  and  conscience ;  none  so  consistent, 
because  it  ever  keeps  those  powers  in  due  exercise,  the 
lower  as  subordinate  to  the  higher  ;  and  none  so  noble, 
since  its  ideal  aim  is  to  set  forth  the  glory  of  God  and 
the  good  of  man.  Of  such  a  life  this  volume  is  de- 
signed to  preserve  some  memorials,  inadequate  though 
they  must  be. 

Dr.  Richardson  was  fortunate  in  his  parentage  and 
training.     Through  a  New  England  father  and  a  Vir- 


lO 


ginia  mother,  he  seems  to  have  inherited  much  that  was 
good  in  both  the  Puritan  and  the  CavaHer,  with  but 
little  that  was  faulty  in  either.  If  he  was  spirited,  sensi- 
tive, and  high-souled  before  men,  he  was  none  the  less 
conscientious,  devout,  and  humble  before  God.  Natural 
traits,  which  might  else  have  run  wild,  were  trained  by 
divine  grace  into  the  symmetry  of  a  Christian  character. 
He  was  born  in  Lexington,  Kentucky,  Sept.  4,  1823. 
The  following  account  of  his  ancestry  and  parents,  fur- 
nished by  a  member  of  the  family,  will  be  interesting  to 
the  readers  of  this  volume  :  — 

"  The  Richardson  family  is  said  to  be  of  Norman  origin.  It 
was  settled  in  Norfolk,  Yorkshire,  and  Durham,  and  perhaps 
in  other  counties,  as  early  as  the  eighteenth  century,  and  had 
already  arrived  at  eminence.  In  Bloomfield's  history  of  Nor- 
folk is  a  copious  pedigree  of  the  family  of  Richardson,  barons 
of  Cramond. 

"  There  was  a  certain  Richard  Richardson,  Esq.,  of  Bradford, 
in  Yorkshire,  afterwards  of  Bierley,  in  that  county,  who  paid  a 
fine  of  forty  pounds  in  1630  for  declining  the  honor  of  knight- 
hood from  Charles  the  First.  The  receipt,  signed  '  Wentworth, 
Earl  of  Strafford,'  the  leading  minister  of  Charles,  is  still  in  the 
possession  of  his  descendants.     He  died  in  1656. 

"  More  than  a  hundred  and  thirty  years  after  this,  William 
Richardson  was  born  in  Sudbury,  Massachusetts,  his  ancestors 
having  come  to  this  country  many  years  before.  Sudbury  was 
a  quiet  New  England  town,  and  as  the  boy  grew  to  manhood  he 
must  have  longed  to  see  the  world ;  for  in  the  month  of  Febru- 
ary, 1815,  just  after  the  war  with  England,  he  left  Boston  for  New 
Orleans,  accomplishing  the  journey  in  fifty-three  days.  He  went 
to  Richmond  by  stage,  the  rest  of  the  journey  through  Virginia, 
Tennessee,  etc.,  on  horseback,  alone,  through  the  untrodden 
wilderness,   often   without   food    except   cold   corn   bread   or 


II 


hominy  at  an  occasional  Indian  hovel,  fording  and  swimming 
through  creeks  and  swamps,  often  in  the  worst  of  weather, 
sleeping  at  one  time  for  three  weeks  on  the  bare  ground,  among 
the  snakes  of  the  swamps  and  the  wolves  and  panthers  of  the 
forest, —  his  horse  sharing  with  him  his  hard  bed  and  fare.  He 
reached  his  destination,  April  12,  —  a  journey  of  eighteen  hun- 
dred and  twenty-one  miles  in  fifty-three  days. 

"  In  October  of  the  same  year  he  went  to  Lexington,  Ken- 
tucky, on  business,  and  remained  through  the  following  winter, 
returning  thence  to  New  Orleans  in  the  spring  of  i8i6.  In 
May,  18 1 8,  he  was  married  in  Lexington  to  Miss  Synia  Hig- 
gins  of  that  place.  In  18 19  he  removed  to  Lexington,  which 
was  his  home  till  1837,  when  he  removed  to  Louisville,  Ken 
tucky,  and  there  resided  till  his  death. 

"  He  was  a  merchant,  manufacturer,  and  banker.  For  the 
last  twenty-six  years  of  his  life  he  was  cashier  and  president  of 
the  Northern  Bank  of  Kentucky,  in  Louisville.  He  was  for 
thirty  years  a  ruling  elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  and  had 
the  happiness  of  receiving  seven  of  his  children  into  the  same 
church.  He  was  the  originator  of  the  sunrise  prayer-meeting, 
so  generally  observed  throughout  the  Southwest  and  elsewhere 
on  New  Year's  morning. 

"  Mr.  Richardson  was  especially  known  for  his  deep  piety,  his 
high  sense  of  honor,  and  for  the  lively  interest  which  he  ever 
felt  in  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  was  almost  like  a  pastor, 
in  that  he  visited  the  congregation  and  looked  after  their  spirit- 
ual wants.  He  was  unusually  gifted  in  prayer,  was  an  elder 
indeed,  faithfully  and  lovingly  fulfilling  the  duties  of  his  office, 
and  was  universally  beloved  and  esteemed.  Living  in  a  border 
State,  the  Civil  War  was  a  great  grief  to  him.  He  was  a  stead- 
fast, loyal  Union  man.  He  died  before  its  close,  and  it  was 
believed  by  many  that  his  heart  was  broken  on  account  of  it. 

"The  father  of  Mrs.  Richardson  was  a  friend  of  Daniel  Boone. 
The  family  came  from  Virginia.  There  is  in  the  possession  of 
one  of  her  daughters  a  miniature  of  the  mother  at  the  age  of 


12 


eighteen.  It  represents  a  beautiful  girl,  with  large  dark  eyes, 
noble  brow,  and  fine,  expressive  face.  She  lived  to  see  her 
sons  and  daughters  grown  to  maturity,  and  died  while  yet  in 
her  prime.  Letters  to  her  son  Richard,  written  while  he  was 
pastor  in  Chicago,  show  a  great  interest  in  his  success,  and 
earnest  desires  for  the  advancement  of  the  Redeemer's  king- 
dom. In  December,  1844,  appears  this  paragraph  in  an  article 
written  by  Mr.  William  Richardson  for  the  '  Protestant  Herald,' 
published  in  Louisville,  Kentucky  :  — 

"  '  I  am  New  England  born,  and  there  was  I  educated.  In  a 
country  churchyard  near  Boston  repose  the  ashes  of  my  parents, 
and  of  my  ancestors  for  several  preceding  generations.  Near 
their  graves  stands  a  beautiful,  quiet,  happy  Christian  village,  a 
large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants  of  which  are  my  near  kindred. 
It  was  my  lot  to  become  identified  with  the  West  about  thirty  years 
ago,  and  since  then  it  has  been  and  still  is  my  home."  ' 

In  the  Christian  home  here  described  young  Richard- 
son grew  up  under  the  favoring  influences  of  wealth  and 
culture.  We  are  told  that  he  was  a  dutiful  son  and  a 
devoted  brother.  Among  his  schoolmates  he  was  truth- 
ful, courageous,  and  generous.  With  the  advantage  of 
excellent  teachers,  he  very  early  showed  that  aptitude 
for  study,  especially  for  the  languages,  which  always 
distinguished  him.  After  a  visit  to  Europe,  he  turned 
with  more  serious  purpose  to  the  completion  of  his  edu- 
cation. It  was  then  that  I  first  met  him.  We  left  home 
together  for  Princeton  College  ;  and  from  that  day 
began  a  friendship  which  lasted  nearly  fifty  years. 

While  in  college  he  gained  the  good  esteem  of  teach-, 
ers,  some  of  whom  were  the  most  distinguished  of  their 
day.     His  linguistic  skill    attracted   the  notice  of  Dr. 
James  W.  Alexander,  then  the  accomplished  Professor 
of  Latin   and  Belles    Lettres.     He  was  often   detained 


after  a  lecture  for  special  instruction  by  Prof.  Joseph 
Henry,  whose  magnetic  discoveries  were  soon  to  knit 
the  world  together  with  the  telegraph.  Outside  the 
class-room  he  was  admitted  to  familiar  intercourse 
with  Prof.  Albert  B.  Dod,  whose  subtlety  in  the  higher 
mathematics  and  taste  in  the  fine  arts  were  not  more 
inspiring  than  his  brilliant  powers  of  conversation.  In 
close  contact  with  such  instructors  so  eager  a  student 
could  not  fail  to  make  good  proficiency.  Yet  he  was 
no  recluse;  much  less  did  he  study  for  mere  academic 
honors.  While  freely  participating  in  the  enjoyments 
of  college  life,  he  still  made  it  his  chief  business  to  get 
an  education.  He  was  graduated  with  distinction  in  the 
class  of  1844. 

In  this  connection  the  following  letter  written  to  his 
father  from  college  at  the  age  of  nineteen  will  be  of 
interest  :  — 

"  I  suppose  you  have  received  ere  this  my  '  Circular.'  I  was 
agreeably  disappointed  when  I  learned  my  '  grade.'  It  was  high, 
—  more  so  than  I  had  feared  it  would  be.  There  were  but  eleven 
above  mine,  in  a  class  of  nearly  seventy,  and  one  which  is  said 
to  be  the  best  perhaps  that  has  ever  been  in  this  institution.  .  .  . 
Had  it  not  been  for  the  mathematics  I  might  have  taken  '  first 
honor ; '  not  that  I  care  for  college  honors,  for  although  I  con- 
fess that  I  have  my  full  share  of  ambition,  yet  I  wish  for  a 
larger  field  to  strive  in,  and  where  success  will  be  attended 
with  more  lasting  benefit.  There  are  some  here  who  study 
for  nothing  else  under  the  sun  but  for  the  honor  of  taking  the 
highest  grade  ;  and  if  this  is  to  be  the  '  summum  bonum  ' 
which  a  student  seeks,  I  think  he  studies  from  wrong  motives 
altogether.  ...  I  hope  that  I  have  a  higher  object  in  view,  and 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  care  not  for  any  grade,  provided  I 


14 


secure  that  object  which  should  be  the  aim  of  every  student, 
viz.,  the  improvement  and  cultivation  of  the  mind.  I  shall, 
notwithstanding,  make  a  '  desperate  effort '  during  the  present 
quarter  to  obtain  a  grade  above  ninety  (although  it  will  be  much 
more  difficult,  as  at  the  close  of  it  we  will  be  examined  on  many 
more  branches  of  study  than  at  the  last)  ;  and  if  I  reach  that  I 
shall  be  content,  and  if  I  do  not  I  shall  likewise  be  content.  .  .  . 
What  is  the  state  of  our  church  at  present  in  regard  to  religious 
interest?  One  word  in  relation  to  my  own  feelings  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion.  I  have  not  as  yet  found  that  there  is  any  very 
strong  temptation  to  a  professor  of  religion  here  to  be  betrayed 
into  out-breaking  sin  that  he  will  not  find  everywhere.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  dissipation  and  degrading  vice  among  the 
students,  and  I  learn  more  and  more  of  it  every  day ;  yet  at 
the  same  time  there  are  enough  of  those  who  are  opposed  to 
everything  of  the  kind,  to  afford  a  Christian  all  the  society 
which  he  needs.  But  there  is  another  danger  to  which  he  is 
exposed  in  a  very  great  degree,  and  one  which  is  perhaps 
almost  as  fatal  to  true  piety  as  any  other,  and  that  is  a  cold  and 
lifeless  state  of  feeling  on  religious  subjects.  ...  I,  at  least, 
have  found  this  to  be  the  case.  God  forbid  that  I  should  ever 
lose  any  of  the  small  degree  of  interest  which  I  have  taken  in 
the  subject  of  religion  !  Rather  let  me  pray  and  strive  to  grow 
daily  in  grace,  and  to  have  my  heart  firmly  and  constantly  fixed 
on  the  object  which  of  all  others  is  most  important,  and  to 
promote  which  we  are  all  placed  an  earth,  viz.,  the  '  glory  of 
God.'  Would  that  I  could  feel  that  ardent,  burning  desire  for 
the  salvation  of  others  which  should  characterize  the  Christian  ! 
.  .  .  May  I  have  more  of  the  true  spirit  of  Christ  given  me, 
that  I  may  be  enabled  to  devote  myself  to  His  service  in  future, 
wholly,  entirely,  and  without  reserve  !  " 

Having  devoted  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry,  he 
passed  at  once  into  the  Princeton  Seminary,  and  there 
came  under  the  influence  of  instructors  who  are  now 


revered  as  fathers  of  the  Church.  The  Alexanders, 
Samuel  Miller,  and  Charles  Hodge  were  then  in  the 
prime  of  their  powers,  and  doing  their  best  work  for 
their  several  departments  of  sacred  learning.  There 
was  also  much  intellectual  activity  among  the  students 
themselves,  some  of  whom  had  begun  to  discuss  sub- 
jects now  popularly  known  as  the  higher  criticism  and 
the  historic  episcopate.  Of  those  who  have  since  risen 
to  distinction  in  the  theological  world,  I  need  only  name 
Drs.  Green  and  Paxton,  of  Princeton ;  Bishop  Little- 
john  and  Drs.  William  A.  Dod  and  W.  W.  Lord,  of  the 
Episcopal  Church;  Prof.  Basil  Manly,  of  the  Baptist 
Seminary  at  Louisville ;  and  Prof.  William  B.  Scott,  of 
the  Seminary  at  Chicago.  Amid  such  associations 
Mr.  Richardson  passed  four  years  of  study,  adding  to 
the  prescribed  course  a  fourth  year  as  a  resident  grad- 
uate. He  made  the  best  of  his  opportunities.  As  was 
then  customary,  he  read  the  whole  of  Turretin's  Insti- 
tutes in  the  Latin,  and  wrote  out  a  complete  system  of 
theology  in  answer  to  the  written  queries  propounded 
in  the  class-room.  He  was  also  specially  devoted  to 
the  exegetical  study  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  and 
annotated  the  Greek  text  of  several  of  the  Epistles. 
At  the  same  time  the  graver  tasks  of  the  seminary  were 
lightened  by  the  daily  recreations  of  a  students'  club  of 
so-called  "  Aristoi,"  who  dined  in  the  evening  after  the 
lectures  and  recitations  were  over.  While  still  pursuing 
his  studies,  on  the  3d  of  June,  1846,  he  was  licensed  to 
preach  the  gospel  by  the  Presbytery  of  Louisville. 

So  varied  a  training  would   seem   to  have   been  de- 
signed to  fit  him  for  the  varied  career  which  awaited 


i6 


him.  He  was  destined  to  a  succession  of  pastorates  in 
different  parts  of  the  country,  among  people  of  different 
stages  of  culture,  with  congregations  needing  different 
modes  of  preaching  and  pastoral  service.  The  narra- 
tives and  letters  collected  in  the  following  pages  will 
show  how  well  he  met  the  demands  of  each  of  these 
pastorates,  how  many  hearts  he  knit  to  him  in  bonds 
of  Christian  fellowship,  what  a  hold  he  gained  in  every 
community  where  he  lived,  and  what  fruits  of  his  labor 
still  remain. 

As  if  to  begin  at  the  foundation,  his  first  work  was 
that  of  gathering  and  organizing  a  new  church  of  his 
own  faith  and  order  by  means  of  his  own  efforts.  He 
entered  the  city  of  Chicago  a  young  evangelist  with 
only  a  commission  of  his  distant  Presbytery,  and  in  the 
hall  of  Rush  Medical  College,  hospitably  opened  for 
the  purpose,  proceeded  to  preach  to  growing  audiences 
agreeing  with  him  in  doctrine,  somewhat  as  St.  Paul  at 
Ephesus  "  separated  the  disciples,  disputing  daily  in  the 
school  of  one  Tyrannus."  In  six  months  the  room  was 
found  too  small  for  his  congregation.  The  story  of  the 
North  Presbyterian  Church,  as  thus  formed,  is  told  by 
himself  on  a  subsequent  page,  in  an  extract  from  his 
dedication  sermon ;  and  the  accompanying  tributes  of 
his  parishioners  reveal  more  fully  his  own  agency  in  the 
enterprise,  and  his  striking  personality  as  he  appeared 
at  that  period  of  his  life.  He  was  ordained  and  installed 
pastor  of  this  church,  Nov.  19,  1848,  and  continued  in 
charge  seven  years,  until  April  11,  1856. 

An  interval  of  five  years  was  filled  with  several 
changes.     From  Chicago  he  was  called  to  St.  Peter's 


17 


Church,  in  Rochester,  N.  Y.  One  of  the  attractions  of 
this  church  for  him  may  have  been  its  hturgical  ser- 
vice, in  which  the  order  of  the  Prayer  Book  was  main- 
tained, but  without  wholly  repressing  extemporaneous 
worship  and  sacrificing  Presbyterian  simplicity.  After 
a  short  ministry  he  became  stated  supply  of  the  church 
of  Marengo,  111.,  where  he  remained  about  one  year, 
and  then  removed  to  Red  Mills,  N.  Y.,  serving  the 
church  in  that  place,  first  as  stated  supply,  and  then 
as  pastor,  for  another  period  of  nearly  four  years. 
In  1864  he  received  an  invitation  to  the  First  Presby- 
terian Church  in  Newburyport,  Mass.,  and  was  settled 
over  it  nearly  five  years. 

In  the  Newburyport  pastorate  he  seems  to  have 
reached  the  zenith  of  his  power  and  influence.  He 
stood  in  an  old  historic  pulpit,  above  the  tomb  of  White- 
field,  in  a  line  of  pastors  whose  eloquence  had  been 
kindled  as  in  touch  with  the  bones  of  the  prophet. 
The  Civil  War  was  drawing  out  all  his  patriotic  ardor. 
When  but  a  boy  in  his  Kentucky  home,  we  are  told, 
he  had  shown  repugnance  to  that  institution  which  it 
was  the  seeming  duty  of  many  to  palliate.  From  his 
Chicago  pulpit  he  had  denounced  the  repeal  of  the 
Wilmot  proviso,  provoking  a  reply  from  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  on  the  floor  of  the  United  States  Senate.  And 
he  was  now  among  a  people  who  put  him  forward  as 
their  champion  in  the  contest  for  the  national  life.  The 
tributary  letters  of  this  period  speak  especially  of  the 
thrilling  effect  of  his  sermon  on  the  death  of  the  mar- 
tyred President  Lincoln.  They  also  show  how  his  own 
sorrows,  in  the  death  of  two  lovely  children,  brought 

3 


him  into  tender  sympathy  with  his  flock  in  all  like 
afflictions.  He  remained  at  Newburyport  until  No- 
vember, 1868,  when  he  was  unanimously  called  to  the 
pastoral  charge  of  the  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Trenton,  N.  J. 

The  pastorate  at  Trenton  was  his  last  and  longest 
term  of  service,  continuing  nearly  twenty  years.  In 
many  respects  it  was  a  pleasant  and  fruitful  ministry. 
He  had  come  back  among  his  early  friends,  near  the 
scene  of  his  happy  student  life  at  Princeton.  The  two 
great  cities  of  New  York  and  Philadelphia  were  at  hand, 
with  their  rich  opportunities  for  keeping  in  touch  with 
the  times.  He  had  the  warm  sympathy  and  support  of 
Chancellor  Henry  Green  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Hall, 
of  the  First  Church,  as  well  as  the  aid  and  counsel  of 
his  friends  and  co-workers  in  the  congregation.  As  to 
his  success  in  the  pulpit  and  parish,  and  his  efficient 
labors  in  the  schools,  missions,  and  charities  of  the  city, 
a  full  narrative  may  be  found  in  the  interesting  and 
beautiful  tributes  herewith  published. 

When  Dr.  Richardson  felt  constrained  by  the  state  of 
his  health  to  relinquish  the  charge  of  this  church,  his 
resignation  could  only  be  accepted,  as  the  resolutions 
of  the  congregation  and  session  indicate,  with  the 
deepest  sorrow  and  reluctance.  For  a  time  afterwards 
he  resided  in  New  York  City  and  at  Tarrytown  on  the 
Hudson,  passing  the  summers  in  his  cottage  at  Bayhead, 
on  the  Jersey  coast.  But  he  could  not  be  idle.  He 
found  a  congenial  task  as  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
Standard  English  Dictionary  in  preparation  by  Messrs. 
Funk  and  Wagnalls,  and  brought  to  it  all  his  enthusiasm 


19 


and  industry.  His  colleagues,  in  their  memorial  tribute, 
have  testified  to  his  high  scholarship  and  engaging 
social  qualities.  While  absorbed  in  this  exhausting 
literary  work  his  health  began  more  seriously  to  fail, 
and  he  was  at  length  obliged  to  remain  in  his  seaside 
home,  where  he  had  retired  with  his  family  in  the  early 
spring  in  hope  of  benefit  from  the  change.  Gradually 
it  became  evident  that  skill  and  affection  could  do  no 
more.  After  lingering  in  much  suffering  until  Tuesday, 
June  14,  1892,  he  died  peacefully  in  the  early  dawn  of 
that  day.  The  tidings  of  his  death  came  as  a  shock 
to  many,  who  had  not  even  heard  of  his  illness.  There 
was  a  simple  funeral  at  Bayhead  on  Thursday,  con- 
ducted by  his  classmate  and  cherished  friend,  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Gosman,  of  Lawrenceville ;  and  the  next  day  more 
public  solemnities  attended  the  interment  at  Newbury- 
port,  where,  in  accordance  with  his  known  desire,  he 
was  buried  beside  the  graves  of  two  of  his  children. 
A  memorial  service  was  also  held  in  his  former  church 
at  Trenton,  with  a  sermon  preached  by  Dr.  Gosman. 
The  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick,  to  which  he  be- 
longed, recorded  in  fitting  terms  their  high  estimate 
of  his  ministerial  character  and  usefulness.  Obituary 
notices  of  his  life  and  work  appeared  in  the  religious 
journals.  Cordial  resolutions  of  respect  and  condolence 
were  tendered  to  his  family  by  the  different  sessions  and 
congregations  to  which  he  had  ministered,  and  numer- 
ous letters  of  sympathy  came  from  "former  parishioners 
and  friends  throughout  the  country. 

While  death  has  thus  disclosed  some  true  apprecia- 
tion of  Dr.  Richardson,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  left 


20 


SO  few  literary  remains  to  extend  his  influence.  He 
published  but  little,  only  a  few  occasional  discourses, 
and  the  small  volume  termed  "  The  Family  Record," 
designed  for  the  instruction  and  consolation  of  his 
people.  The  sermons  appended  to  these  memorials 
may  serve  as  specimens  of  his  preaching.  But  the 
most  enduring  record  of  his  services  is  written  in  the 
Book  of  Life,  and  graven  on  the  hearts  of  those 
who  are  become  his  epistles  known  and  read  of  all 
men. 

In  the  year  1865  he  received  the  degree  of  D.  D. 
from  his  alma  mater,  the  College  of  New  Jersey.  No 
one  could  fail  to  see  in  him  the  well-trained  scholar. 
At  one  time,  indeed,  before  he  left  Princeton,  he  had 
thought  of  devoting  himself  to  an  academic  career  in 
the  college  or  seminary.  His  linguistic  gifts  and  tastes 
would  have  fitted  him  well  for  almost  any  chair  of  lan- 
guage and  literature.  They  at  last  found  full  play  in. his 
labors  as  a  lexicographer.  But  they  were  never  lost  or 
disused  in  his  ministry.  He  liked  to  preach  as  if  from 
the  inspired  original  tongues,  carefully  writing  his  text 
in  the  Hebrew  or  the  Greek  character,  and  making  his 
sermon  truly  exegetical  as  well  as  doctrinal  and  prac- 
tical. He  had  a  wealth  of  sentiment  and  diction  which 
left  him  at  no  loss  in  extemporaneous  discourse.  His 
written  style  was  natural,  flowing,  and  graceful,  —  not 
without  some  play  of  fancy.  In  the  pulpit  his  voice 
and  manner  were  commanding,  and  sometimes  he  be- 
came truly  eloquent,  when  having  an  audience  in  full 
sympathy  with  him,  and  an  occasion  to  draw  forth  all 
his  powers.     "  He  was  always  a  hard  student,  and  gave 


21 


nothing  to  his  people  from  the  pulpit  which  was  not 
the  result  of  careful  study  and  thought.  He  gave  them 
his  very  best." 

To  the  church  of  his  birth  and  choice  he  was  ever 
loyal.  He  served  it  faithfully  as  clerk  of  one  of  its 
presbyteries  and  editor  of  one  of  its  journals.  In  seven 
of  its  parishes  he  labored  as  a  pastor.  Liberal  to  all 
good  enterprises,  he  gave  contributions  to  the  benevo- 
lent boards,  which  set  a  high  example  to  his  flock. 
Although  he  had  been  trained  in  the  conservatism  of  the 
Old  School  of  Presbyterian  churchmanship,  he  was  not 
without  practical  sympathy  with  the  more  progressive 
tendencies  of  the  New  School.  Indeed,  fixed  as  he  was 
in  his  own  theological  opinions,  there  was  no  sort  of 
denominational  belief  or  religious  sentiment  for  which 
he  could  not  have  charity.  As  early  as  1848,  in  the 
sermon  defining  his  doctrinal  position  at  Chicago,  he 
thus  declared  how  fully  he  could  appreciate  whatever 
is  good  in  all  forms  of  faith  and  worship  :  — 

"  We  have  no  sympathy  with  that  false,  ultra  form  of  so-called 
religious  independence,  which  would  free  itself  from  all  the 
power  of  hallowed  associations,  and  esteem  the  house  of  God 
no  more  sacred  than  a  house  of  merchandise  or  a  den  of  thieves. 
I  would  reverence  the  idol  temples  of  the  heathen,  I  would 
reverence  a  mosque  of  the  False  Prophet,  I  would  reverence 
the  hoary  Cathedral ;  and  if  in  times  of  necessity  my  Protes- 
tant Christianity  should  engage  me  in  pulling  down  these  strong- 
holds of  delusion,  I  would  do  it  with  a  gentle  hand,  and  not 
with  the  ruthless  spirit  of  the  mob.  I  would  have  respect  for 
any  place,  no  matter  where  or  what,  in  which  the  poor,  weak 
heart  of  man,  impressed  with  a  sense  of  its  relation  to  some 
superior  unseen  Power,  and  conscious  ot  the  necessity  of  some 


22 


kind  of  offering  to  it,  should  present  the  best  worship  to  which 
this  consciousness,  regulated  by  the  kind  and  degree  of  his 
knowledge,  should  lead  him.  The  religious  element  in  man's 
nature,  however  ignorant  or  fallen  he  may  be,  is  still  his  chief 
honor,  is  his  most  conservative  principle,  is  the  best  part  of  his 
nature,  that  which  most  nearly  allies  him  to  God.  It  is  still  the 
impress  of  the  divine  image,  which  in  his  unfallen  state  consti- 
tuted his  chief  glory ;  and  wherever  any  trace  of  that  image  is 
discernible,  though  it  may  be  faint  and  distorted,  it  is  yet 
worthy  of  respect."  ^ 

There  is  the  best  authority  for  saying  that  he  was  a 
most  faithful  and  successful  pastor.  "  Even  before  his 
own  afflictions,  his  people  thought  no  one  more  truly 
sympathized  with  them ;  and  many  of  his  dearest  and 
truest  friends  were  those  to  whom  he  had  ministered 
in  their  hour  of  trial.  But  when  twice  he  was  left 
childless,  then  the  words  spoken  to  those  in  bereave- 
ment were  truly  from  a  stricken  heart.  He  often  said, 
'  I  knew  nothing  of  others'  trials  till  my  own  came.'  " 
And  he  shared  their  religious  doubts  as  well  as  their 
sorrows.  It  was  no  wonder  that  many  of  them  became 
devotedly  attached  to  him,  as  their  letters  in  this  volume 
testify.  Nor  was  it  strange  that  he  reciprocated  such 
attachments.  The  following  letter,  written  by  him 
shortly  after  he  left  Trenton,  may  serve  as  an  illus- 
tration of  these  sacred  friendships:  — 

"  I  am  grateful  for  the  little  mistake  to  which  you  refer,  inas- 
much as  it  furnished  occasion  for  your  very  kind  and  pleasing 
letter.  I  thank  you  for  your  long  and  still  continued  affection, 
and  that  you  address  me  by  the  title  of  '  pastor.'     There    is 

'  Extract  from  the  sermon  preached  at  the  dedication  of  the  North 
Presbyterian  Church  edifice,  Chicago,  Illinois,  December,  1848. 


something  very  precious  to  me  in  that  name,  and  when  it  rep- 
resents the  relation  borne  to  one  so  patient,  generous,  and 
sympathetic  towards  me  as  you  have  ever  been,  I  find  it  not 
pleasant  to  surrender  it  to  another,  though  officially  it  is  mine 
no  longer.  I  think  that  I  have  always  appreciated  the  peculiar 
phases  of  your  Christian  experience,  not  as  mere  matters  of 
observation  and  study,  but  as  similar  so  largely  to  my  own. 
Whether  it  be  true  or  not,  as  has  been  said,  that  '  he  who  never 
doubted  never  half  believed,'  it  is  true  that  continuance  in  the 
faith,  in  spite  of 'fears  within  and  fightings  without,'  is  an  evi- 
dence of  the  reality  of  that  which  is  thus  held,  and  also  a  proof 
of  an  ever  increasing  conviction  of  it.  If  otherwise,  how  could 
we  keep  our  hold  ? 

"  I  am  thankful  that  I  have  ever  been  able  to  help  you  in  any 
way.  But  you  have  not  been  only  a  receiver.  I  have  received 
as  much  and  more  from  you.  I  have  always  felt  while  preach- 
ing, as  well  as  in  more  private  communication,  that  you  could 
appreciate  my  feeling,  as  expressed,  even  if  not  in  the  language 
of  too  great  personal  assurance  or  too  little  regard  for  the 
trembling  faith  and  the  frequent  misgivings  of  others.  The 
older  I  grow  I  become  more  tolerant  and  compassionate  towards 
all  the  latter  class,  while  at  the  same  time  I  think  I  make  less 
for  myself  of  some  of  the  troubles  with  which  I  used  to  be 
assailed.  Our  faith,  after  all,  finds  its  only  solid  basis  in  the 
personal  Jesus,  the  Christ,  and  on  that  rock  we  may  rest,  even 
if  tempests  do  blow  and  waves  beat  wildly  against  it.  We  are 
not  far  away  from  the  land  of  light ;  let  us  go  patiendy  and 
hopefully  forward  to  it  through  this  low  valley  of  cloud  and 
shadow." 

In  all  the  relations  of  life  he  was  strictly  honorable. 
Advances  from  another  church  were  never  encouraged, 
if  he  foresaw  that  he  could  not  become  their  pastor. 
He  incurred  no  debts  which  he  could  not  pay;  and 
debts  of  honor  were  sacred  to  him,  though  others  should 


24 


neglect  their  obligations  and  leave  him  to  bear  heavy- 
losses. 

He  was  a  steadfast  friend  and  genial  companion.  In 
conversation  his  individuality  often  appeared  unique, 
though  not  eccentric.  He  had  his  own  original  way  of 
putting  things.  When  he  chose  he  would  mask  a  grave 
truth  in  some  humorous  paradox,  which  could  not  be 
parried,  or  clinch  it  with  some  extreme  statement  that 
more  than  proved  his  point.  Examples  of  his  senten- 
tious sayings  may  be  found  in  these  pages. 

In  estimating  his  character,  it  should  be  stated  that 
there  was  a  side  of  it  not  shown  to  the  world.  His  sen- 
sibilities were  very  acute.  He  both  suffered  and  enjoyed 
intensely,  more  than  most  men ;  but  the  suffering  quite 
outweighed  the  joy.  Hard  trials  and  keen  disappoint- 
ments were  borne  by  him  with  a  calm  exterior,  es- 
pecially during  the  later  years  of  his  ministry;  and  to 
anguish  of  mind  was  often  added  nervous  depression 
caused  by  an  insidious  disease,  which  could  have  but 
one  termination.  Hence  there  were  moods  and  con- 
trasts in  his  high-strung  nature.  By  turns  he  would  be 
joyous  and  gloomy,  indignant  and  tender;  and  when 
wounded  in  a  sore  point  his  reserve  became  absolute. 
At  such  times,  it  may  be,  some  of  his  best  friends  did 
not  quite  understand  him ;  but  beneath  all  the  sunshine 
and  shadow  of  his  temperament,  there  could  beat  no 
truer  and  kinder  heart. 

Dr.  Richardson  was  married  on  the  7th  of  September, 
1853,  at  Hadley,  Mass.,  to  Miss  Octavia  VVoodbridge, 
daughter  of  Rev.  John  Woodbridge,  D.D.  To  this 
union  he  brought  all  the  chivalrous  devotion  of  his  un- 


25 


selfish  nature,  and  in  it  he  found  the  chief  joy  of  his 
Hfe.  His  affections  for  his  children  were  absorbing 
passions.  There  was  a  touch  of  his  poetic  sentiment 
and  scholarly  taste  in  the  very  names  which  he  gave  to 
them:  "  Klyda,"  the  Greek  for  a  wave,  to  his  daughter 
born  at  the  seashore,  and  *'  Verne,"  Latin  for  spring, 
to  his  soil  who  came  in  the  spring-time.  Of  two  of  his 
dead  children  he  said  to  his  Newburyport  people  at 
parting,  "  Whenever  a  flower  is  laid  upon  their  graves, 
wherever  I  am,  I  shall  feel  it."  Amid  all  his  sorrows 
and  trials  his  home  was  ever  a  remaining  solace ;  and 
under  its  soothing  ministries  at  last  he  sank  to  rest. 
Of  those  final  scenes  of  illness  and  parting  it  is  not 
for  me  to  speak.  The  veil  has  been  tenderly  drawn 
aside  for  us  by  the  hand  of  filial  affection.  The  sketch 
which  follows  will  meet  a  desire  of  many  hearts  to 
know  all  that  it  tells  them. 

All  winter  father  had  been  steadily  engaged  in  literary  work 
which  required  most  intense  and  constant  application,  and  he 
sometimes  said  he  was  so  tired  that  he  wondered  if  he  could 
ever  get  rested.  His  determination  and  courage  often  led  him 
to  undertake  his  work  on  a  day  which  he  should  have  spent  in 
bed,  and  the  other  gentlemen  who  were  busy  in  the  same  room 
with  him  little  knew  the  severe  strain  he  was  putting  upon  him- 
self. It  was  only  in  yielding  to  our  most  earnest  and  anxious 
solicitations  that  he  consented  to  come  to  the  seashore  cottage 
he  loved  so  much,  —  "for  a  few  days,"  as  he  said. 

Every  day  the  fact  became  more  evident  that  the  time  for  his 
going  back  must  be  deferred,  and  litde  by  little  he  seemed  to 
lose  strength  and  to  suffer  increasingly.  It  troubled  him  that 
he  did  not  begin  to  improve,  for  he  said  he  had  a  great  deal  to 
do  yet,  and  felt  that  he  could  not  afford  the  time  to  be  ill.     For 


26 


two  or  three  weeks  he  was  able  to  sit  up  for  a  part  of  the  day, 
and  once  or  twice  he  took  a  short  walk ;  but  he  had  a  great 
deal  of  pain,  and  most  of  the  time  was  spent  in  fighting  it  as 
bravely  and  cheerfully  as  might  be. 

In  the  summers  that  are  gone  he  took  great  delight  in  making 
long  excursions  into  the  woods,  and  he  knew  every  tree  and 
plant  by  name.  As  he  used  to  lie  on  his  bed  through  those 
x^pril  days,  he  liked  to  have  his  curtain  drawn  to  enable  him  to 
see  the  woods  in  the  distance,  and  often  he  said,  with  a  sigh, 
"  I  shall  never  walk  in  those  woods  and  gather  magnolias 
again ;  "  but  we  did  not  think  it  could  be  so.  We  hoped  that 
when  the  June  weather  brought  back  the  swamp  magnolias, 
which  he  particularly  loved,  he  would  be  able  to  go  and  bring 
them  home  as  he  used  to  do  ;  but  when  the  flowers  were  brought 
home  in  all  their  sweetness,  they  rested  on  his  coffin. 

The  spring  grew  more  and  more  beautiful,  and  we  tried  to 
get  dear  father  out  on  the  piazza,  where  he  had  always  taken 
great  pleasure  in  sitting  and  watching  the  vessels  go  by.  But 
it  tired  him  to  sit  up  long,  and  there  was  the  almost  unceasing 
pain  to  weary  him,  and  almost  imperceptibly  the  time  came 
when  he  made  no  attempt  to  rise,  but  said  he  would  try  lying 
still  that  day,  and  see  if  he  would  not  be  better  to-morrow. 
After  that  he  seemed  contented  to  stay  in  his  room,  and  he 
never  came  down  stairs  again.  The  doctors  thought  that  it  was 
inadvisable  to  give  him  opiates,  as  they  retarded  the  slight 
chance  there  remained  of  arresting  his  disease  ;  so  there  were 
very  few  things  we  could  do  to  relieve  the  constant  suffering 
which  was  so  very  hard  to  witness,  and  which  he  bore  with 
increasing  resignation  and  patience.  I  used  to  sit  by  him  and 
hold  his  hand,  and  he  would  say  sadly,  "  Can't  any  one  do  any- 
thing to  relieve  this  awful  agony?"  and  it  was  bitterly  hard  to 
see  all  remedies  fail.  Sometimes  he  would  lie  and  moan  for 
hours,  and  then  we  would  hear  him  talking  to  himself,  as  I 
thought ;  but  one  time  when  I  asked  him  what  he  had  said,  he 
answered  :  "  I  was  only  saying  my  prayers.     I  am  always  pray- 


27 


ing  for  patience."  He  often  repeated  hymns,  and  sometimes 
even  sung.  His  voice,  which  had  aUvays  been  sweet  and  true, 
did  not  fail  him  up  to  the  last,  and  he  said  he  believed  that 
singing  did  him  more  good  than  groaning. 

In  spite  of  the  pain  and  the  great  nervous  depression  which 
frequently  hung  over  him,  a  spirit  of  fun  occasionally  manifested 
itself.  One  day  when  I  had  given  him  a  quieting  medicine,  he 
said  in  a  whisper,  "  Hush  !  don't  say  anything  ;  for  the  pain  may 
come  back.  I  think  it  listens."  And  as  he  began  to  grow  easier 
he  kept  on  saying,  "  If  it  hears  you,  it  will  come  back  ;  so  we 
must  not  let  it  know  that  I  feel  a  Httle  better." 

His  unselfishness  and  gentle  courtesy  never  failed  him. 
Often  he  would  apologize  for  making  so  much  trouble,  and  he 
always  tried  to  do  everything  for  himself  that  he  could.  He 
submitted  cheerfully  to  trying  the  various  remedies  advised  by 
his  physicians,  and  did  everything  in  his  power  to  forward  his 
recovery,  though  I  think  he  had  really  very  little  hope  that 
he  could  get  well. 

About  the  first  of  June  we  had  a  consultation  of  the  doctors, 
and  though  on  that  day  our  dear  invalid  seemed  freer  from 
pain  than  for  some  time,  he  was  getting  weaker,  and  we  felt 
very  uneasy  about  him.  The  next  day  the  doctor  told  me  that 
the  situation  was  extremely  critical,  and  explained  to  me  just 
how  slight  his  chances  for  recovery  were.  After  that  there 
came  a  week  of  alternate  hope  and  fear,  until  the  evening  of 
Saturday,  the  nth  of  June.  As  father  was  moderately  comfort- 
able, we  left  him  in  good  hands  while  we  took  a  ten  minutes' 
walk,  and  gathered  strength  for  what  might  be  before  us. 
Father  had  suffered  from  excessive  thirst  for  several  days,  and 
the  dreadful  restlessness  which  is  such  a  fatal  sign  had  oppressed 
him.  On  Friday  night,  as  I  was  sitting  with  him,  he  complained 
of  being  very  tired,  and  said  he  would  be  so  happy  if  he  could 
only  lie  on  his  side.  But  he  could  not  be  really  comfortable 
in  any  position,  and  though  he  put  his  arms  about  my  neck, 
and  I  lifted  him  the  best  I  could,  he  was  beyond  the  point 


28 


where  his  poor  weary  body  could  be  at  ease.  As  I  left  him 
that  night,  at  his  earnest  entreaty  to  lie  down  for  a  few  minutes, 
he  suddenly  called  me  back,  and  holding  my  hand  he  said,  "  We 
never  know  what  may  happen,  and  God's  blessing  can  never 
hurt  any  one  ;  "  and  then  he  kissed  me,  and  prayed  God  to  bless 
us  all.  All  through  those  last  days  he  was  so  sweet  and  gentle 
that  it  was  intensely  pathetic  to  see  him  so  tired,  and  to  hear 
him  say  to  himself,  "  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  get  release  from 
this  pain  !  "  though  he  seemed  perfectly  resigned  to  whatever 
might  come. 

While  we  were  out  on  Saturday  night  we  met  our  doctor  and 
had  a  talk  with  him,  and  it  was  arranged  to  have  still  another 
consultation  the  next  morning  at  eleven,  as  the  case  did  not 
appear  very  hopeful.  We  hurried  home,  and  found  that  the 
pain  and  other  unfavorable  symptoms  had  come  on,  and  twice 
through  the  evening  I  sent  messages  to  the  doctor,  who  sent 
down  various  remedies,  hoping  to  give  father  relief.  But  about 
half-past  eleven  there  seemed  to  be  such  a  decided  change  for 
the  worse  that  the  doctor  came  at  once.  Dear  father  said  him- 
self, "  I  think  this  is  the  end,"  and  I  gave  up  hope  immediately. 
After  the  doctor  had  done  what  he  could,  I  went  up  to  father's 
room,  and  he  was  sitting  up  against  his  pillows,  quite  free  from 
pain,  and  apparently  comfortable.  He  talked  very  earnestly,  as 
though  he  were  preaching,  and  although  he  knew  us  all  per- 
fectly, his  mind  was  evidently  a  little  bewildered. 

The  doctor  said  that  he  was  certain  the  end  was  near,  but  that 
it  might  not  be  for  a  day  or  two  ;  so  I  persuaded  the  rest  of  the 
family  to  go  and  He  down,  promising  to  call  them  if  any  change 
should  come.  Father  had  by  this  time  forgotten  about  the 
changes  in  his  condition  which  had  worried  him,  and  was  very 
happy.  He  seemed  puzzled  that  he  felt  weak,  but  otherwise  he 
was  as  comfortable  as  possible.  He  said  it  was  absurd  for  any 
one  to  sit  up  with  him,  for  he  was  all  right.  "  We  have  reached 
the  turning-point  now,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "  and  to-morrow  I  shall 
begin  to  go  up  hill."     Then  he  took  a  little  milk,  and  begged 


29 


me  to  goto  bed.  He  said,  "To-morrow  is  Sunday,  you  know, 
and  you  must  go  to  sleep  now,  and  so  will  I,  and  we  will  wake  up 
bright  and  early  for  Sunday  morning."  Knowing  so  well  that 
this  was  my  last  time  with  him,  I  could  not  leave  him,  though  I 
sometimes  went  out  of  the  room  a  few  minutes  to  please  him, 
for  he  seemed  very  much  afraid  I  would  be  too  tired.  Every 
time  I  looked  at  him  he  was  lying  quietly,  and  sometimes  talk- 
ing to  himself. 

"  Hand  me  gently  down  the  steeps  of  time" 

was  a  line  which  he  constantly  repeated  during  all  those  last 
days,  and  he  gave  a  long  quotation  from  Schiller  with  great 
force  on  that  very  night.  Most  of  the  time  he  recited  hymns, 
and  seemed  to  find  great  pleasure  in  them. 

The  night  wore  slowly  on,  but  it  seemed  very  short  to  me. 
I  tried  to  think  of  everything  I  would  have  asked  him,  and  I 
said  to  him  everything  I  wanted  to  say.  Once  I  said  :  "  Do 
you  think  you  will  forget  me,  father?  Promise  me  that  you 
never  will."  And  he  put  his  arms  around  me  and  answered, 
"  Never,  never,  dear  faithful  child  !  "  and  kissed  me  over  and 
over  again.  In  fact,  that  night  he  always  kissed  me  and  stroked 
my  hand  whenever  I  did  the  slightest  thing  for  him.  This 
sweet  appreciation  and  gratitude,  for  what  was  my  only  pleasure 
to  do  for  him,  made  it  hard  to  preserve  that  composure  which 
was  necessary  for  his  comfort ;  but  fortunately  my  strength  held 
out  as  long  as  it  was  needed. 

When  the  sun  came  up  out  of  the  sea  and  the  morning  grew 
brighter,  dear  father  began  to  talk  a  little  confusedly,  and  I 
called  the  family  and  we  arranged  to  have  the  doctors  come  at 
nine  instead  of  eleven.  I  brought  him  a  glass  of  ice-water  at 
breakfast-time,  and  he  said,  regretfully,  "  Sit  down,  poor  perse- 
cuted child ;  you  have  not  slept  all  night,  and  it  makes  me  sad 
to  have  you  do  so  much  for  me."  So  I  sat  and  held  his  hand, 
and  he  talked  on,  sometimes  with  perfect  understanding,  and 
again  his  mind  wandered.     "  Who  is  sick?"  he  asked.     "  Some 


30 


one  was  sick  here,"  and  when  I  answered,  "  It  was  you,  father 
dear,"  he  assented.  "Oh,  yes,  so  I  was  !  but  I  am  quite  well 
now.     I  must  go  back  to  New  York  to-morrow." 

A  little  later  he  said  :  "  You  don't  look  very  cheerful,  it  seems 
to  me.  This  is  Sunday  morning,  and  we  ought  to  be  bright  and 
happy.  Pretty  soon  we  will  have  service,  for  there  ought  to 
be  a  reverential  observance  of  the  day.  After  a  while  we  will 
sing."  I  asked  him  if  he  wanted  me  to  sing  then,  and  he  said, 
"Yes;  sing!  lift  up  the  voice  like  a  trumpet;"  but  then  he 
added,  "  We  will  sing  after  a  while."  When  the  doctors  came, 
although  he  was  not  able  to  speak  very  clearly,  he  recognized 
them  both,  and  greeted  them  with  all  his  old-time  courteous- 
ness.  '•'  How  kind  of  you/'  he  said,  "  to  come  and  see  me  !  " 
and  invited  them  both  to  stay. 

After  they  left,  father  became  restless  again  in  spite  of  the 
stupor  which  was  creeping  over  him.  One  of  our  neighbors, 
a  young  man  who  was  very  fond  of  him,  came  in  and  helped  us 
in  fanning  him  and  lifting  him  on  his  pillows.  Father  seemed 
to  be  in  a  good  deal  of  pain,  and  was  evidently  very  uncom- 
fortable. Once  he  put  his  arm  about  my  mother  and  me  and 
kissed  us  both,  s:  ying,  "I  know  I  am  going  now;  good-by." 
For  a  few  minutes  that  morning  I  was  alone  with  him,  and  I 
heard  him  say,  "  I  have  so  much  to  be  forgiven,  so  many  sins  !  " 
and  I  said,  "  Dear  father,  if  we  all  had  as  few  as  you,  we  would 
be  well  off."  He  answered  me  quickly,  in  a  reproachful  way, 
"  You  must  not  say  that ; "  and  then,  though  I  cannot  recall  his 
exact  language,  he  said  that  Jesus  Christ  could  make  it  all 
right,  and  he  was  satisfied.  When  I  asked  him  if  he  wanted 
to  go,  he  said  he  did  not  want  to  leave  us  all,  but  was  con- 
tented either  way. 

As  he  grew  more  and  more  uncomfortable  I  began  giving 
him  anodynes,  according  to  the  doctor's  orders ;  and  finally  as 
a  last  resort  I  prepared  to  give  him  the  morphine  which  I  had 
ready  for  this  emergency.  Before  he  took  it  he  said,  as  though 
he  understood,  "  Don't  give  me  that  until  you  have  to."     Then 


31 


he  continued,  "  I  only  want  release,  release  !  "  and  I  told  him 
that  he  was  never  going  to  suffer  any  more,  and  that  the  rest  he 
longed  for  was  coming  soon.  Then  we  kissed  him  again,  and 
he  took  the  morphine.  Through  the  afternoon  he  talked  in- 
cessantly, but  we  could  not  understand  much  that  he  said. 
The  neighbors  were  wonderfully  kind,  and  came  all  day  long 
with  inquiries  and  offers  of  help. 

One  of  the  doctors  came  in  at  supper-time,  and  father  knew 
him,  and  asked  him  to  stay  to  supper  ;  but  after  that,  until  the 
end  came  on  Tuesday  morning,  he  was  unconscious  nearly  all 
the  time.  Sometimes  he  roused  a  little,  and  spoke  our  names, 
and  whenever  we  were  able  to  gain  his  attention  he  always  said 
he  was  "  perfectly  comfortable,  thank  you." 

Though  he  was  exceedingly  restless,  and  struggled  sometimes 
for  breath,  the  evidences  were  very  clear  that  he  was  not  suffer- 
ing at  all,  and  the  end  was  peace,  when,  on  Tuesday  morning 
at  half-past  seven,  he  went  home  to  the  rest  for  which  he 
longed. 

"  The  morning  shall  awaken, 

The  shadows  shall  decay, 
And  each  true-hearted  servant 

Shall  shine  as  doth  the  day. 
There  God,  our  king  and  portion, 

In  fulness  of  His  grace. 
Shall  we  behold  forever, 

And  worship  face  to  face." 


I  was  quite  ill  during  the  month  of  May,  and  my  daughter 
was  her  father's  and  my  own  most  faithful  nurse,  assisted  by 
one  who  had  served  and  loved  us  all,  and  who  would  cheerfully 
do  anything  for  the  "  dear  doctor."  From  the  beginning  of  my 
husband's  sickness  he  often  appeared  to  feel  that  the  end  was 
near,  and  day  by  day  his  sufferings  increased  and  his  strength 
failed.     Nearly  three  weeks  before  his  death  there  came  one 


32 


day  a  telegram  from  New  Orleans  announcing  the  death  of  his 
beloved  brother,  Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson.^ 

I  hesitated  at  first  about  telling  him,  fearing  that  the  news 
would  greatly  agitate  him,  but  finally  decided  that  it  would  be 
better  to  do  so.  The  death  of  this  brother  was  the  first  in  the 
family  of  brothers  and  sisters  for  nearly  forty  years.  When  I 
said  quietly,  "  Richard,  your  brother  is  dead,"  he  received 
it  calmly,  and  then,  looking  up  at  me  with  those  dark,  expres- 
sive eyes,  said  :  "  It  often  happens,  when  death  comes  into  a 
family  after  a  long  interval,  that  another  soon  follows.  I  shall 
probably  be  the  next."  The  same  thought  came  to  us,  but  we 
tried  to  put  it  away. 

One  day  he  said  to  me,  "  I  wish  you  would  get  the  hymn- 
book  and  read  me  the  hymn,  '  The  Hour  of  iny  Departure  's 
Come.' " 

"  But  it  has  not  come,"  I  said  quickly. 

"  No ;  but  I  want  to  be  ready  when  it  does." 

When  fearing  suffering  that  he  felt  coming  on,  I  have  seen 
him  fold  his  hands  like  a  little  child,  and  looking  up  with  touch- 
ing reverence,  he  would  pray,  "  O  God,  give  me  strength  !  " 

Our  eldest  son  was  at  home  for  a  short  time  about  two  weeks 
before  his  father  left  us.  It  was  a  happy  visit.  He  had  become 
the  father  of  a  little  daughter  a  few  days  before,  and  had  much 
to  tell  about  the  baby,  our  first  grandchild.  He  begged  his 
father  to  get  well  fast,  that  be  might,  at  the  young  mother's 
desire  and  his  own,  be  able  to  baptize  the  child. 

That  evening  his  father  had  a  severe  nervous  chill,  and  seemed 

1  Dr.  T.  G.  Richardson  was  very  ill  a  long  time,  and  bore  with 
wonderful  patience  and  Christian  fortitude  distressing  suffering.  He  was 
a  noble  man,  full  of  kind  deeds  and  generous  impulses,  —  one  in  whom  his 
family  took  much  delight ;  and  now  that  he  has  left  them  they  deeply 
mourn  his  loss.  He  led  a  most  useful  life,  and  attained  distinction, 
especially  in  the  South,  being  connected  with  the  Medical  Department 
of  the  Tulane  University  of  Louisiana.  He  served  with  zeal  and  en- 
thusiasm in  the  Confederate  army ;  was  an  elder  in  the  First  Presby- 
terian Church,  of  which  Dr.  Palmer  is  pa.stor.  He  was  known  through- 
out the  country  as  an  eminent  physician  and  surgeon. 


33 


in  a  very  critical  condition.  We  were  all  much  alarmed.  The 
two  boys  stood  by  the  bed  and  did  everything  they  could  to 
relieve  him.  After  the  distress  and  pain  had  passed  away,  and 
the  dear  sufferer  lay  quietly,  with  his  sons  on  either  side,  he 
said,  "  It  is  pleasant  that  we  are  all  together  once  more."  Sud- 
denly he  sang,  in  a  strong,  clear  voice,  — 

"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name  ! 
Let  angels  prostrate  fall ; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all." 

Then  he  gave  us  his  blessing  :  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  be  with  you  all.     Amen." 

My  son  went  away  the  next  morning,  and  his  father  never 
saw  him  again.  He  arrived,  it  is  true,  before  the  end,  but  the 
unconscious  form  which  lay  quietly  breathing  away  its  life 
could  give  him  no  more  loving  welcome,  nor  tender  embrace. 


THE    CHICAGO    PASTORATE. 


^ 


^iterarg. 


Memorials  of  Richard  H.  Richardson. 
D.D.    This  volume  is  prepared  in  recherche 
style.    It  is  composed  of  memories  of  Dr. 
Richardson,   who  died  June  14,  1892.     Al- 
though these  are  the  tributes  of  apprects- 
tive  friends,   respecting    the  worth  of  one 
who  is  dead,  th^re  is  no  semblance  of  the 
insignia  of  mourning,  which  usually  accom- 
pany such  memorials.     Not  a  broad  black 
line  is   found  on  any   page.    The  cover  is 
pearly  white.    It  lies  before  us  like  a  calla 
lily,  and  almost  has  the  fragrance  of  flow- 
ers of  which  the  departed  was  so  fond.    A 
perusal  of  the  contents  confirms  what  aU 
Dr.   Richardson's  friends  well  knew,  that 
he  WHS  mo-t  honorable  as  a  man,  steadfast 
as  a  f  ciend,  deeply  sympathetic  as  a  pastor. 
He  possessed  rare  gifts,  which  had  been  as- 
siduously cultivated.    His  attainments  took 
a  wide  range— in  theology,  music,  poetry, 
rhetoric,  and  especially  in  the  classics,  and 
languages  of  Scri pture.    But  all  were  strictly 
tributary   to   his    work   as    a    preacher   of 
the  gospel,  in  which  he  excelled.    He  was 
intimately  acquainted  with  the    Scriptures^ 
often  aptly  quoting  sentences  found  in  nooks 
of  the  Bible.    We  heard  him  deliver  an  ad- 
mirable charge  to  a  pastor  at  an  installation 
in  which  was  not  a  word  of  his  own.    It  was 
Bible  from  beginning  to  end,  and  most  ex- 
quisitely woven  together.    He  was  devoted 
to  his  children,  and  carried   the  thought  of 
them  almost  as  a  burden.    On  one  occasion 
he  said  to  a  mother,  at  whose  house  he  was 
a  guest,  in  that  quaint  way  which  made  his 
remarks  like  "nails  well   fastened:"    "Are 
you   one  of  the   anxious   mothers?    I  am." 
The   peculiarities    and  excellencies   of  his 
character  are  well  brought  out  in  the    con- 
tents of  this  volume,  which  are   a  biograph- 
ical sketch  by  Professor  Shields,  of  Princeton 
University,  followed  by  a  history  of  his  pas- 
torates in  Chicago,  Newburyport  and  Tren- 
ton; also  tributes,  as  they  came  from  friends 
and  ecclesiastical  bodies.    The  volume  closes 
with  three  sermons  of  Dr.  Richardson.   This 
book  will   be   the   only  keepsake   that    his 
friends  will  have.    He  did  not  write  for  the 

press,  nor  publish,  although  well  qualified 
to  do  fcO.    A.  D.  F.  Randolph  and  Co. 


THE   CHICAGO    PASTORATE. 


From  Dedication  Sermon. 

ON  the  nineteenth  day  of  April  last,  he  who  now  addresses 
you  landed  on  your  shores,  a  total  stranger  to  the  place 
and  people.  His  coming  was  neither  devised  nor  determined 
by  the  counsel  of  his  own  will,  but  by  the  church  to  whose 
service  he  had  given  himself  away,  and  whose  wishes  thence- 
forth became  to  him  commands  of  God  ;  and  thus  coming, 
he  trusted  that  he  should  come  in  the  fulness  of  the  bless- 
ing of  God  and  the  gospel  of  peace. 

His  commission  authorized  and  instructed  him  to  establish 
here,  if  proper  and  possible,  a  branch  of  that  household  of 
faith  with  which  he  is  himself  connected.  To  say  that  in  this 
work  he  encountered  difficulties  and  trials,  is  merely  to  record 
the  fulfilment  of  his  own  expectations,  and  the  expectations  of 
those  who  sent  him.  These  anticipations  were  founded  upon 
a  knowledge  of  the  nature  and  relations  of  the  enterprise,  and 
upon  an  acquaintance  with  the  past  history  of  all  similar 
undertakings. 

It  seems  to  be  a  very  general,  if  not  a  universal,  appointment 
of  Divine  Providence,  that  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  shall  be  built 
in  troublous  times ;  and  in  this  God  does  but  display  His  usual 
wisdom,  —  a  wisdom  which,  if  not  always  manifest  at  the  time, 
never  fails  to  vindicate  itself  afterwards.  The  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  success  in  the  present  case  were,  of  course,  as  they 
always  are,  modified  by  peculiarities  of  time,  place,  and  cir- 


38 


cumstance.  They  did  not,  however,  appear  sufficiently  formi- 
dable to  justify  an  abandonment  of  the  enterprise  without  an 
experiment.  It  was  therefore  deemed  advisable  by  the  few 
who  felt  a  friendly  interest  in  the  cause  that  such  an  experiment 
should  be  made. 

By  the  kindness  of  those  having  control  of  the  Rush  Medical 
College,  —  a  kindness  which  is  here  publicly  and  with  gratitude 
acknowledged,  —  we  were  promised  the  use  of  their  building 
for  our  Sabbath  services.  And  in  that  building,  on  the  21st 
of  May  last,  in  much  trembling,  and  yet  with  faith  and  hope, 
we  gathered  together,  a  little  handful,  to  preach  and  hear  the 
Word  of  God,  and  offer  Him  our  prayers  and  praises.  And 
from  that  day  and  that  hour  God  took  the  weak  and  struggling 
infant  in  His  arms,  and  has  nourished  and  watched  over  it,  and 
protected  and  brought  it  onward  to  its  present  strength  and 
stature. 

About  thirty  persons  were  in  attendance  on  the  services  of 
the  first  Sabbath,  and  the  same  on  those  of  the  second.  During 
the  succeeding  week  new  interest  and  friendship  for  the  effort 
were  developed,  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third  Sabbath  the 
number  in  attendance  was  doubled.  The  tokens  of  God's 
favor  continued  to  increase.  As  the  enterprise  became  more 
known  it  was  more  loved.  New  friends  gathered  around  it  to 
express  their  sympathy  and  cheer  it  onward  by  promises  of  aid 
and  alliance.  Its  presence  in  their  midst  rekindled  old  and 
hallowed  and  dear  associations,  which  prompted  them,  in  spite  of 
inconveniences  and  discouragements,  which  always  attend  the 
first  stages  of  such  an  undertaking,  to  hold  out  a  helping  hand 
and  bid  it  God  speed.  And  other  allies  too  were  raised  up, 
into  whose  hearts  God  breathed  a  willingness  and  determination 
to  take  part  with  His  people  in  endeavoring  to  advance  His 
cause.  And  thus  the  good  work  went  on  from  week  to  week, 
and  from  strength  to  strength,  and  like  Him  whose  name  it 
bore,  increased  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favor  with  God 
and  men. 


39 


By  the  loth  of  July  the  success  of  the  enterprise  was  con- 
sidered so  well  assured  that  at  a  meeting  of  the  male  members 
of  the  congregation  on  that  day  the  incipient  steps  were  taken 
toward  the  erection  of  the  house  which  we  this  day  consecrate. 
A  committee  was  appointed  to  make  all  necessary  inquiries 
and  applications,  and  report  to  a  subsequent  meeting.  This 
report  was  rendered  on  the  14th  of  the  month  following,  when 
the  trustees  of  the  church  were  chosen  and  final  measures 
adopted  to  secure  a  lot  and  house  of  worship.  On  the  sixth 
day  of  the  same  month,  the  eleventh  Sabbath  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  services  in  the  medical  college,  the  object 
for  which  they  had  been  commenced  was  accomplished. 
Twenty-six  professing  members  of  the  household  of  God  the 
great  Father  united  themselves  together,  and  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Potts,  of  St.  Louis,  were  organized  into  a  church  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  From  d liferent  parts  of  the  country  and  different 
branches  of  the  Church  Catholic,  they  asserted  the  unity  of  the 
body  at  large  by  union  in  a  single  organization.  This  organi- 
zation took  the  name  of  the  North  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Chicago.  It  elected  two  ruling  elders,  who  were  on  the  same 
day  ordained  and  installed  over  the  church.  At  this  time  the 
sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  administered  for  the  first, 
and  until  now  the  only  time,  —  the  disciples  of  Christ  thus 
sealing  their  devotion  to  His  cause  and  their  union  with  each 
other  by  remembering  their  common  Lord  around  the  table  of 
His  dying  love.  On  the  Wednesday  evening  of  the  week  fol- 
lowing, the  first  church  prayer  meeting  was  held,  which  service 
has  been  continued  regularly  until  the  present,  with  only  such 
inteimissions  as  were  unavoidable.  No  new  feature  marked 
the  history  of  the  church  until  the  i8th  of  September,  when  at 
a  meeting  of  the  congregation  a  unanimous  call  for  the  pastoral 
services  of  the  speaker  was  prepared.  In  consequence  of  the 
action  of  the  Synod  of  lUinois,  on  the  12th  of  October,  by 
which  some  changes  were  made  in  the  territorial  boundaries  of 
the  Presbyteries   composing   that   body,  some   delay  was  ex- 


40 


perienced  in  the  prosecution  of  this  call.  It  was  not  until  the 
seventeenth  day  of  the  month  following  that  it  was  formally  pre- 
sented by  the  Presbytery  of  Peoria,  which  met  in  this  city  on 
that  day.  The  usual  preliminary  steps  having  been  taken,  the 
Presbytery  did,  in  the  afternoon  of  the  19th  of  that  month, 
ordain  the  pastor  elect  to  the  full  work  of  the  gospel  ministry, 
and  install  him  over  the  North  Presbyterian  Church. 

And  now  to-day  we  meet  to  erect  the  next  memorial  of  our 
progress  in  the  dedication  of  this  house  to  the  worship  of  that 
God  whose  kind  and  guardian  hand  has  led  us  thus  far  on 
our  way. 

The  biography  of  an  infant  is  necessarily  short,  and  seldom 
marked  by  any  startling  fact  to  arrest  the  attention  of  its  reader 
or  hearer.  It  is  in  the  days  when  the  child  has  become  a  man  ; 
when  his  arm  has  grown  strong  and  his  footsteps  firm ;  when 
he  takes  his  place  among  his  fellows  nerved  with  energy  and 
power  of  endurance  to  do  and  bear  his  part  in  the  world's 
drama,  —  it  is  then  that  he  becomes  the  man  of  history,  about 
whose  pathway  we  linger  to  watch  and  learn,  and  see  what  is 
the  work  that  God  has  given  him  to  do.  And  so  it  is  to  the 
future  manhood  and  maturity  of  this  infant  church  that  we 
would  look  to  see  it  acting  well  its  part  on  life's  stage.  We 
would  let  the  eye  range  along  its  pathway  down  through  the  dim 
vista  of  time  to  come,  and  by  the  vision  of  faith,  as  we  are  borne 
above  it  on  the  pinions  of  hope,  would  behold  it  steadfast  and 
straightforward  in  its  march,  strong  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord 
of  Hosts.  We  would  see  the  little  one  become  a  thousand,  and 
the  small  one  a  strong  nation.  We  would  follow  in  its  train,  and 
find  its  progress  marked  by  blessings  strewn  everywhere  around 
and  after  it.  We  would  see  it  with  the  ark  of  God  in  trust, 
and  the  fire  and  the  cloud  to  lead  and  protect  it ;  we  would  see 
it  like  Israel  of  old,  before  whose  coming  the  Amorite  and 
Amalekite  shall  vanish.  We  would  look  upon  the  seas  dried 
up,  and  the  rivers  flowing  back  at  its  approach.  The  rock  shall 
yield  it  drink  and  the  clouds  bring  it  nourishment.     And  though 


41 


its  pathway  too  may  lie  through  the  desert  and  temptation,  yet 
we  would  behold  it  enter  upon  its  promised  land,  into  the  mil- 
lennial Canaan,  when  the  walls  of  Jericho  and  the  armies  of  the 
alien  shall  alike  fall  before  it.  It  may  be  also  when  its  Moses  for 
the  weakness  of  his  faith  shall  be  buried  this  side  the  flood,  and 
when  the  drifting  sands  of  the  desert  shall  be  playing  among 
the  whitened  bones  of  those  who  commenced  the  journey  with 
him,  when  not  even  a  Caleb  and  a  Joshua  shall  be  left  to  pass 
the  Jordan,  —  that  the  Lord  will  then  lead  His  people  —  a 
better  host  and  under  a  better  Captain  —  to  take  possession  of 
the  promised  rest. 

Old  School  Presbyterianism  in  Chicago. 
From  a  Chicago  pape7%  May  9,  1855. 

Mr.  Richardson  commenced  preaching  in  May,  1848,  in 
Rush  Medical  College,  on  Dearborn  Street.  He  continued  to 
preach  in  that  place  until  December  of  the  same  year,  by  which 
time  the  room  had  become  too  small  to  hold  the  steadily  in- 
creasing congregation.  The  organization  of  the  church  took 
place  on  the  6th  of  August,  1848.  Dr.  Potts,  of  St.  Louis,  was 
present,  and  assisted  Mr.  Richardson  in  the  organization. 

During  the  same  summer  measures  were  taken  to  erect  a 
house  of  worship,  and  a  lot  was  purchased  for  that  purpose  on 
the  northeast  corner  of  Clark  and  Michigan  Streets,  a  location 
which  was  then  considered  as  very  remote  from  the  centre  of 
the  city,  and  around  which  very  few  houses  had  then  been 
built  in  any  direction.  It  is  now  one  of  the  most  compactly 
built,  busiest,  and  most  noisy  spots  in  the  city.  .  .  .  The  Rev. 
R.  H.  Richardson  is  a  native  of  the  State  of  Kentucky,  and  a 
graduate  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey  at  Princeton,  and  also 
of  the  theological  seminary  in  the  same  place.  He  came 
immediately  from  the  seminary  to  Chicago,  being  at  that  time 
a  licentiate  of  the  Presbytery  of  Louisville.  He  is  a  gentleman 
of  prepossessing  appearance,  pleasing  manners,  an  eloquent  and 
able  preacher  and  catholic  Christian. 

6 


42 


North  Presbyterian  Church,  Old  School. 

Extract  from  the  "  History  of  Chicago.'''' 

In  the  month  of  May,  1848,  the  initiatory  steps  were  taken 
toward  the  organization  of  the  society.  The  first  services  were 
held  Sunday,  May  28,  1848,  in  the  hall  of  Rush  Medical  Col- 
lege, in  accordance  with  the  following  notice  published  in 
the  newspapers  of  Saturday,  May  27:  "Divine  service  accord- 
ing to  the  usage  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  may  be  expected 
to-morrow,  and  every  Lord's  day  until  further  notice,  at  10.30 
o'clock  A.M.  and  2.30  o'clock  p.  m.,  in  the  hall  of  the  Medical 
College,  Dearborn  Street.  Preaching  by  the  Rev.  R.  H. 
Richardson." 

Religious  services  were  continued  in  the  college  till  the  fall 
of  the  same  year,  when  their  first  house  of  worship  was  erected. 
The  church  was  organized  Sunday,  August  6,  1848,  with  twenty- 
six  members,  among  whom  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  O.  M.  Dorman, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clark  Runyan,  Mrs.  Lucy  Fitch  Williams,  Miss 
Lucy  Maria  Williams,  Mrs.  C.  S.  Wadsworth,  Mrs.  Jonas  Clark, 
Mrs.  Mindwell  W.  Gibbs,  Miss  Doggett,  Mrs.  Dr.  Blaney,  De- 
rastus  Harper,  Mrs.  R.  J.  Hamilton,  Cyrus  H.  McCormick,  and 
others. 

During  the  fall  of  1848  a  neat  edifice  in  the  Gothic  style  of 
architecture  was  erected  at  the  corner  of  North  Clark  and 
Michigan  Streets,  at  a  cost  of  $2,000.  It  was  a  small  frame 
structure,  with  a  "pepper  box  "  steeple,  and  was  sold  in  1852, 
when  there  was  erected  a  similar  but  somewhat  larger  building, 
at  the  southwest  corner  of  Illinois  and  Wolcott  (State)  Streets, 
fronting  north.  This  edifice  cost  originally  $3,000  ;  it  was 
afterwards  enlarged,  and  finally  sold  at  the  time  of  the  com- 
pletion of  the  large  brick  church  at  the  corner  of  Indiana  and 
Cass  Streets,  which  was  dedicated  about  Feb.  21,  1861.  The 
style  of  architecture  of  the  church  was  the  Romanesque,  and 
it  was  furnished  with  an  excellent  organ. 


43 


Rev.  R.  H.  Richardson  was  ordained  and  installed  pastor  of 
this  church  Nov.  19,  1848,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Peoria.  He 
remained  until  April  11,  1856,  and  was  succeeded  by  Rev.  R. 
A.  Brown,  who  was  ordained  and  installed  Dec.  14,  1856.  Mr. 
Brown  resigned  July  21,  1857,  after  which  there  was  no  regular 
pastor  until  the  installation  of  Rev.  Nathan  L.  Rice,  D.D.,  Oct. 
20,  1858. 

The  Sunday  school  in  connection  with  the  North  Presby- 
terian Church  was  largely  attended.  One  of  its  first  super- 
intendents was  Charles  A.  Spring,  a  brother  of  Rev.  Gardiner 
Spring,  D.D.,  of  New  York.  He  was  succeeded  in  1854  by 
John  Woodbridge,  who  was  superintendent  continuously  for 
ten  years  ;  and  during  this  time  the  average  attendance  of  scholars 
was  one  hundred  and  fifty.  The  library  connected  with  this 
school  was  exclusively  religious. 

Reminiscences  of  Former  Chicago  Parishioners. 

"  I  first  saw  Dr.  Richardson  in  the  year  1848,  when  he  was 
about  twenty-five  years  old.  He  was  then  preaching  in  the 
Rush  Medical  College,  in  Chicago,  and  his  audience-room, 
capable  of  holding  two  or  three  hundred  people,  was  well 
filled.  I  was  present  at  his  ordination,  which  took  place  in 
the  Baptist  church,  then  under  the  pastorate  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Tucker.  I  can  recall  his  looks  at  that  time  ;  his  face  closely 
shaven,  his  eyes  large,  dark,  and  uncommonly  brilliant,  and  his 
hair  black  and  curling,  falling  back  from  his  fine  brow.  He 
had  a  singularly  graceful,  elegant  figure  at  that  time,  and  his 
voice  was  strong,  clear,  and  well  modulated.  As  he  knelt  to 
receive  the  'laying  on  of  hands,'  his  appearance  was  grave 
and  devout. 

"  When  his  enterprise  had  attained  to  such  proportions  that  it 
became  necessary  to  build  a  church,  he  sent  to  Princeton  for  a 
plan,  and  having  received  one  which  was  satisfactory,  the  build- 
ing was  soon  completed,  and  the  church  work  went  on  apace. 


44 


"  When  I  went  again  to  Chicago,  about  five  years  afterwards, 
I  found  Dr.  Richardson's  church  a  power  in  the  city.  It  had 
a  very  large  and  flourishing  Sunday  school,  under  the  super- 
intendence of  Mr.  Charles  Spring,  a  brother  of  Dr.  Gardiner 
Spring  of  New  York.  This  school  was  doing  an  important 
missionary  work,  and  the  pastor  was  recognized  as  an  able 
and  eloquent  preacher  of  the  'faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints.' 

"  Here  I  would  not  fail  to  mention  that  the  Assembly's  Cate- 
chism was  faithfully  taught  in  the  Sunday  school.  Every  pupil 
who  committed  it  to  memory  received  a  Bible,  and  it  was  pleas- 
ant to  see  the  children  of  foreign  as  well  as  those  of  native  birth 
come  forward  to  recite  those  noble  words. 

''  The  plan  of  systematic  giving,  by  cards  for  each  month,  was 
originated  by  him  in  connection  with  this,  his  first  charge. 

"  He  assisted  in  the  organization  of  the  first  Old  School  Pres- 
bytery and  Synod  in  that  region,  and  was  largely  instrumental 
in  the  organization  of  new  churches.  But  while  so  much  occu- 
pied with  his  own  work  at  home,  he  did  not  fail  to  recognize 
the  wants  of  the  world.  Some  one  once  made  the  objection  to 
foreign  missions  that  so  many  died  in  the  field,  and  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson answered :  '  It  is  no  matter.  The  work  is  so  needful 
that  no  sacrifice  is  too  great.' 

"  He  was  a  great  lover  of  fine  scenery,  and  having  been  born 
under  a  southern  sky,  delighted  in  gorgeous  color.  I  suppose 
that  passion  for  beauty  affected  his  style,  unconsciously,  it  may 
be.  Certain  it  is  that  after  a  summer  vacation  he  came  back 
from  the  woods  and  hills  '  trailing  clouds  of  glory,'  and  his 
congregations  could  readily  accept  the  words  of  the  hymn, 
'  Nature  with  Open  Volume  stands.' 

"  As  a  pastor  he  was  greatly  beloved  by  all  classes  and  condi- 
tions, and  in  his  congregation  the  poor  and  obscure  were  never 
neglected,  but  sought  out  with  especial  care,  as  were  also  the 
sick.  I  remember  one  man  to  whom  Dr.  Richardson  paid  one 
hundred  and  forty  visits  during  a  long  illness,  and  who  wept  if 


45 


a  day  passed  that  the  minister  did  not  come.  Another,  not  of 
his  flock,  refused  to  take  even  a  glass  of  water  without  his  con- 
sent, so  much  had  he  learned  to  trust  him." 

"  Recollections  throng  upon  me  of  that  dear  pastor,  the  object 
of  an  enthusiastic  love  as  rare  as  it  was  intense.  How  dis- 
tinctly I  remember  that  to  win  his  approbation  was  one  of  the 
strongest  incentives  to  noble  action.  Surely  such  loyal  pride 
and  affection  as  we  felt  for  him  could  only  have  been  inspired 
by  a  generous  and  tender  heart.  This  was  truly  verified  by  a 
sentiment  expressed  by  him,  when,  in  answer  to  an  interrogation 
as  to  whether  undue  indulgence  or  severity  was  most  to  be 
deprecated,  he  replied  with  flashing  eye,  '  Better  err  in  doing 
too  much,  even  in  the  way  of  mistaken  kindness,  than  by  warp- 
ing and  stunting  the  moral  nature  by  harshness  that  is  criminal.' 
This  was  the  key-note  of  his  life,  and  the  impress  that  it  left  on 
my  childish  heart  was  ineffaceable.  We  as  children  felt  the 
influence  of  that  sympathy  which  perceived  the  good  intent 
with  readier  instinct  than  the  bad. 

"  Another  memory,  fragrant  and  beautiful,  was  his  love  for  a 
dear  brother,  snatched  away  in  the  budding  promise  of  a  rare 
manhood,  and  his  unaffected  grief  when  he  learned  that  his 
young  friend  should  have  entered  the  open  portal  of  the  great 
beyond  while  he  was  absent.  How  well  I  can  also  remember 
how  that  dear  brother  counted  it  one  of  his  greatest  joys  to 
minister  to  his  beloved  Mr.  Richardson  during  a  season  of 
physical  prostration,  when  the  bond  of  mutual  affection  deep- 
ened into  a  friendship  that  only  death  could  sever.  In  the 
shadow  of  bereavement,  when  my  parents'  hearts  were  stricken 
by  the  loss  of  the  near  and  dear,  it  was  to  him  they  turned  for 
strength  and  comfort  in  the  hour  of  desolation,  and  the  friend 
was  ever  faithful,  and  his  gentle  sympathy  never  failed  them. 
The  sunshine  was  brighter  when  he  shared  its  brightness  with 
us,  and  the  sorrow  more  easily  borne  when  he  was  near  to 
soothe  and  cheer.     Many  of  our  dear  ones  have  gone,   and 


46 


both  the  father  and  mother  passed  to  '  the  other  side '  before 
his  summons  came.    But  we  know  *  it  is  well  with  our  beloved.'  " 

"  Dr.  Richardson  was  from  my  girlhood  an  embodiment  of  all 
that  an  able,  strong,  tender,  and  true  friend  should  be,  and  I 
had  a  worshipful  love  and  reverence  for  him.  By  him  I  meas- 
ured other  pastors,  and  always  felt  that  he  towered  over  them 
all  as  a  preacher,  leader,  scholar,  man,  and  friend.  The  old 
and  the  young  had  this  personal  love  for  him,  and  in  the  days 
long  gone  by  he  was,  in  his  church  and  among  his  people,  the 
central  figure. 

"  To  my  father  and  mother  he  was  especially  dear  ;  and  once 
when  he  was  suddenly  taken  ill,  and  word  was  sent  to  them,  all 
other  cares  were  dropped,  and  they  hastened  to  him,  telling  us 
children  we  must  be  very  good  and  let  them  go  to  dear  Dr. 
Richardson,  for  he  was  very  sick.  Though  they  were  called  at 
our  '  evening  hour,'  not  one  of  us  rebelled,  but  promised  to  be 
doubly  obedient  while  they  were  away,  each  of  us  feeling  that 
in  this  way  we  were  really  helping  him  to  get  well." 

"  My  mind  is  falling  into  interesting  retrospection  of  the  time 
when  I  knew  him  as  a  young  man  who  had  already  entered  on 
his  chosen  work,  with  what  zeal  and  devotion  those  who  knew 
him  will  readily  attest. 

"  I  recall  him  in  many  varying  circumstances,  always  calm, 
dignified,  winning  in  manner,  agreeable  in  conversation,  often 
entering  into  the  mirthful  moods  of  others,  yet  always  with  a 
self-restraint  commanding  respectful  reserve  of  even  heedless 
ones  ;  at  all  times  the  Christian  gentleman,  —  never  more  so 
than  when  under  very  trying  circumstances.  Sympathetic,  kind, 
and  generous,  he  was  ever  ready  to  serve  a  friend,  and  too  noble 
to  remember  that  he  had  done  a  favor. 

"  Dr.  Richardson's  pastoral  and  ministerial  record  was  brilliant 
and  successful :  yet  it  was  not  enough  that  he  had  built  up  a 
large  and  influential  church  in  the  heart  of  Chicago,  and  that  as  a 


47 


pulpit  orator  and  sermonizer  he  stood  easily  the  first  among  his 
compeers  ;  his  energies  must  reach  into  outlying  regions,  where 
Christians  were  to  be  gathered  into  organized  churches,  souls 
to  be  saved,  and  children  to  be  brought  into  the  fold.  For  this 
he  gave  his  time,  strength,  and  money,  sanctified  by  prayer 
rejoicing  in  the  opportunities,  not  thrust  upon  him,  but  sought 
and  found.  Thus  he  organized  many  Presbyterian  churches 
which  to-day  stand  as  memorials  of  his  wisdom  and  zeal. 
There  rises  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  small  parlor  in  our  mis- 
sionary manse,  where  he  and  a  brother  beloved  used  to  discuss 
these  interests  and  plan  for  aggressive  work,  not  only  on  strictly 
religious  lines,  but  in  all  that  would  aid  in  lifting  the  banner 
of  morality,  public  order,  and  justice.  There  were  no  schools 
in  that  new  country,  with  its  heterogeneous  population,  and 
schemes  for  the  uplifting  and  advancement  of  the  young  were 
prominent  in  these  discussions. 

"  Dr.  Richardson  often  said  that  he  was  not  gifted  as  a  teacher ; 
had  it  been  so,  he  would,  perhaps,  have  accepted  one  of  the  pro- 
fessorships offered  him  by  Princeton  :  but  he  could  use  what  in- 
fluence he  possessed  to  aid  the  work  of  others.  A  few  years 
later  he  gave  signal  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  his  interest  in  plant- 
ing religious  educational  institutions  in  the  new  West  by  his 
generous  sacrifice  of  personal  interests  in  response  to  what 
seemed  to  him  a  call  of  duty,  as  well  as  of  devoted  friendship. 
To  aid  in  establishing  a  first-class  collegiate  institute  in  Marengo, 
Illinois,  he  left  the  East  to  go  to  the  relief  of  his  friend,  over- 
worked and  deeply  burdened  by  a  great  enterprise,  with  none 
to  help. 

"  None  but  those  familiar  with  the  conditions  of  a  sparsely 
settled  new  country,  where  money  is  scarce  and  ignorance 
and  indifference  in  the  majority  combine  to  render  such 
efforts  discouraging,  at  times  almost  hopeless,  can  understand 
the  strength  and  nobility  of  the  sacrifices  made  by  the  faithful, 
prayerful,  consecrated  men  who  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
moral  and  religious  institutions  which  have  been  and  ever  will 


48 


be  benefactions  of  untold  good,  —  often  at  the  cost  of  health 
and  even  life. 

"  In  the  above  labor  of  Dr.  Richardson  a  beautiful  and  rare 
trait  is  illustrated,  —  tenacious  and  devoted  friendship.  Once 
estabhshed,  nothing  could  change  its  steadfastness.  So  marked 
was  this  feeling  between  himself  and  the  friend  alluded  to,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  George  Goodhue,  that  they  were  playfully  called 
'  David  and  Jonathan,'  as  fair  representatives  of  that  immortal 
pair." 


THE    NEWBURYPORT    PASTORATE. 


THE    NEWBURYPORT    PASTORATE. 


REV.  DR.  RICHARDSON'S  settlement  over  the  Old 
South  Church  in  Newburyport  was  from  April,  1864, 
to  October,  1868,  —  eventful  years  alike  in  the  history  of  the 
country  and  the  church ;  eventful  also  in  the  lives  of  some 
individuals  therein,  as  furnishing  those  silent  influences  which 
mould  character  and  control  human  destinies. 

Coming  to  a  church  rich  in  historic  associations,  he  was  a 
worthy  successor  of  the  eloquent  divines  who  had  preceded 
him  ;  and  this  fact  both  his  congregation  and  the  city  at  large 
were  quick  to  appreciate.  A  Southern  man  by  birth  and  educa- 
tion, with  that  fervid  intensity  of  nature  which  characterizes 
those  born  in  Southern  latitudes  ;  transplanted  to  a  New  Eng- 
land seaport  with  its  shrewd,  cool  conservatism  on  all  subjects, 
—  and  as  some  have  not  hesitated  to  add,  provincialism  as 
well,  —  it  might  have  been  expected  that  some  elements  of  fel- 
lowship and  complete  sympathy  would  have  been  lacking.  But 
such  was  not  the  case  ;  never  did  the  New  England  character 
find  warmer  appreciation ;  and  to  the  close  of  his  life  he  always 
declared  :  "  I  love  to  preach  to  Newburyport  people.  I  have 
nowhere  found  quicker  intellects  or  warmer  hearts  than  in 
Newburyport." 

During  his  ministry  the  old  church  was  filled  with  such  audi- 
ences as  it  has  rarely  seen  of  late  years,  and  some  of  his  dis- 
courses were  listened  to  almost  breathlessly  as  the  words  of 
burning  eloquence  fell  from  his  lips.     Never,  it  seems  to  me, 


52 


since  the  Master  moved  among  men  and  spake  as  never  man 
spake,  did  such  scathing  condemnation  of  hypocrisy  and  deceit, 
and  evil  in  the  garb  of  righteousness,  and  all  vice  and  impurity, 
fall  from  human  lips  ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  never  was  the 
gospel  more  graciously  presented,  the  sinner  more  tenderly 
entreated,  and  the  love  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  more  clearly 
manifested. 

The  mid-week  services  were  truly  times  of  refreshing  to 
many  souls.  There  were  times  when,  discoursing  of  the  glory 
that  was  to  be  revealed,  his  face  was  almost  transfigured,  as  if 
he  saw  the  heavens  opened ;  there  were  other  times  when  the 
burden  of  human  souls  seemed  too  great  for  him  to  bear,  and 
his  unfulfilled  desires  for  others  were  like  a  crushing  weight. 
With  the  keenest,  tenderest  sympathy,  he  bore  the  burdens  and 
sorrows  of  his  people.  In  every  sense  a  shepherd,  it  was  signally 
true  of  him  that  he  went  before  his  sheep.  A  sweeter  lesson  in 
resignation  could  not  be  given  than  the  pathetic  patience  and 
fortitude  with  which  he  bore  the  loss  of  his  beloved  children, 
when,  in  quickly  repeated  strokes  of  affliction,  he  was  written 
childless.  With  a  heart  quivering  with  anguish  he  went  forth 
to  bind  up  other  wounded  hearts,  and  brought  from  the  depths 
of  his  own  experience  a  balm  for  others. 

Genial  and  friendly  with  all ;  ever  ready  with  a  seasonable 
word  for  every  age,  from  the  little  child  to  the  gray-headed 
man  or  woman  ;  quick  at  repartee  ;  with  a  rich  sense  of  humor, 
yet  never  devoid  of  that  quiet  dignity  which  magnified  his  office 
and  made  it  honorable,  —  the  tongue  of  slander  was  silenced  in 
his  presence,  and  idle  gossip  found  no  place. 

In  the  great  national  struggle  of  those  days  he  was  thoroughly 
loyal  to  the  Union ;  and  who  that  heard  it  can  forget  that  mas- 
terpiece of  eloquence  called  forth  by  the  death  of  our  martyred 
President  in  1865. 

The  two  sermons,  also  entitled  "The  Family  Record,"  awak- 
ened such  responsive  echoes  in  many  hearts  that  the  desire  for 
their  pubhcation  was  unanimous  ;  and  thus  the  circle  of  hearers 


53 


was  enlarged  who  could  profit  by  those  true  and  tender  words 
which  set  forth  the  sacred  claims  of  the  family  relation  which 
prefigures  the  church  above.  The  removal  of  a  pastor  so 
tenderly  loved  was  an  occasion  of  deep  regret  both  to  the 
church  and  the  community,  and  his  occasional  visits  in  suc- 
ceeding years  have  been  welcomed  with  sincere  pleasure.  Once 
more  he  has  come  back  to  us ;  but  the  eloquent  voice  is  silent 
in  death,  and  the  eye  which  could  flash  fire  has  closed  upon 
earth.  Two  little  graves,  made  long  years  before  upon  one  of 
the  hillsides  of  our  old  town,  had  endeared  the  place  to  him  as 
no  living  associations  could  have  done ;  and  here,  in  hope  of  a 
joyful  resurrection,  shall  peacefully  rest  our  beloved  and  honored 
dead.  E.  K. 

During  the  time  that  Dr.  Richardson  was  supplying  the 
pulpit  of  the  church  at  Red  Mills,  N.  Y.,  he  enjoyed  greatly 
the  society  of  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Goodhue,  who  had 
been  obliged  to  come  East  for  his  health,  and  who  was  settled 
near  him.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Lindsley,  since  well  known  for  his 
work  on  the  Western  coast,  was  also  a  near  neighbor,  and  the 
three  ministers  passed  many  pleasant  hours  together.  Mr. 
Goodhue  died  of  consumption,  after  Dr.  Richardson  had  been 
living  in  Newburyport  for  some  time,  and  his  loss  was  most 
keenly  felt  by  his  friend. 

From  Mr.  Goodhue  to  Dr.  Richardson. 

1864. 

It  would  do  me  much  good  to  see  you  and  talk  over  many 
things  with  you.  If  my  health  should  improve  between  this  and 
fall,  I  shall  probably  go  to  some  other  climate  ;  but  I  feel  that  all 
is  uncertain  as  to  myself,  and  that  I  am  entirely  in  God's  hands. 

Your  expressions  of  love  and  sympathy  have  much  affected  me. 
I  have  ever  appreciated  your  love  and  friendship,  but  never  so 
much  as  now.  And  it  has  led  me  to  reflect  how  strong  and  tender 
must  be  the  love  of  God,  and  what  abundant  reason  I  have  for 
trusting  myself  and  all  my  interests  to  it,  whether  it  be  for  life  or 
death. 


54 


The  children  who  died  during  Dr.  Richardson's  Newburyport 
pastorate  were  both  victims  of  the  same  disease,  and  died  within 
ten  days  of  each  other.  The  following  extracts  are  from  letters 
received  at  this  time  :  — 

"  You  will  not  think  me  unmindful  of  you,  or  this  your  great 
sorrow;  but  I  know  that  you  had  all  the  assistance  that  you  needed, 
and  feared  that  even  a  personal  inquiry  at  your  door  might  disturb 
your  darling  or  increase  your  care.  But  you  will  allow  me  through 
this  medium  to  assure  you  of  my  heartfelt  sympathy  in  this  desolat- 
ing, but  for  the  grace  of  God  overwhelming,  affliction.  .  .  .  The 
hearts  of  your  people  are  all  throbbing  in  sympathy  with  you  to- 
day. ...  If  I  can  assist  you  in  any  way  in  the  care  of  your  darling 
boy,  whether  by  night  or  day,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  so." 

"  How  I  long  to  sit  down  and  weep  with  you,  for  words  are  noth- 
ing,—  often  more  than  nothing  at  such  a  time.  We  have  heard  so 
much  of  Thera's  loveliness  that  we  feel  more  fully  what  a  loss  you 
have  sustained.  .  .  .  You  spoke  of  Allie's  extreme  illness  ;  but  we 
cannot  accept  the  possibility  of  such  a  thing  as  his  death.  He  will 
be  spared  you,  I  feel  confident ;  but  we  shall  feel  very  anxious  to 
hear  immediately  in  regard  to  his  health." 

"  It  is  hard  to  realize  that  I  shall  see  little  Thera  no  more,  —  no 
more  here.  She  had  insensibly  won  upon  me  to  an  unusual  degree. 
At  Newburyport,  —  where,  owing  to  the  state  of  my  health,  I  could 
not  compel  myself  to  be  interested  in  anything,  notwithstanding 
your  hospitable  efforts,  —  she  made  sunlight  for  me  ;  and  her  deli- 
cate beauty,  sweet  expression,  and  winning  ways  fascinated  me.  All 
this  has  passed  through  my  mind  many  times  since  I  received 
your  letter.  I  do  not  forget  that  she  was  a  little  child,  nor  that 
God  diffuses  His  idea  of  loveliness  and  beauty  often  through 
tiny  forms." 

"  I  cannot  realize  that  the  dear  child  who  at  our  house  a  few 
weeks  ago  seemed  so  well  and  happy,  and  flitted  about  with  such 
a  sweet  and  gentle  grace,  is  gone  to  return  no  more." 

"  I  know  not  when  I  have  received  so  severe  a  shock  as  this  short 
note  gave  me,  —  simply  containing  the  brief  notice  that  that  little, 
bright,  beautiful  thing  of  life  and  joy,  that  was  only  three  short 
weeks  before  with  us,  is  no  more  of  earth.  .  .  .  You  have  often- 


55 


times  been  called  to  impart  comfort  and  consolation  to  those  in 
similar  condition  with  yourself.  The  words  of  comfort  you  have 
so  often  spoken  to  others  now  come  to  you.  ...  I  feel  exceedingly 
anxious  to  hear  from  you  again,  to  know  that  Allie  is  out  of  danger. 
Do  write  me  at  once,  if  possible." 

"  Dear  little  Thera  !  Do  you  remember  taking  me  in  to  see  her 
the  night  we  reached  Newburyport  ?  She  was  fast  asleep.  We  did 
not  think  as  we  stood  and  looked  at  her  then  that  those  little  eyes 
were  so  soon  to  be  closed  forever  here.  You  speak  of  my  having 
lately  seen  her.  It  is  very  gratifying  to  us  that  we  were  enabled  to 
be  with  you  even  for  so  short  a  visit.  That  little  fair  face  with  its 
golden  hair  and  blue  eyes  seemed  like  a  picture ;  and  is  it  not 
hard  to  believe  she  has  gone?  Truly  it  will  be  one  of  the  little 
graves  that  will  cast  a  '  long,  long  shadow.'  And  then  you  say 
that  AUie,  too,  is  dangerously  ill.  Oh,  if  it  is  entirely  His  will,  may 
he  be  spared  to  you  !  " 

"  How  pleasant  is  my  remembrance  of  Thera  !  I  remember  so 
well  her  sitting  at  the  window  with  me,  so  full  of  childish  glee,  and 
with  such  winning  ways.  Now  I  think  of  her  spirit  as  being  with 
her  Saviour,  and  of  her  fair  form  resting  in  that  beautiful  spot  near 
her  earthly  home,  '  until  the  day  break,  and  the  shadows  flee 
away.' " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  sad  we  all  were  in  reading  your  note  of 
yesterday.  They  could  be  separated  but  a  short  time,  because  they 
were  needful  to  each  other.     Would  you  have  them  separated?" 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  you  how  deeply  I  sympathize  with  you.  Your 
children  were  very  lovely,  —  and  I  know  how  tenderly  you  loved 
them.  .  .  .  Give  my  love  to  Mr.  Richardson,  and  my  warmest 
sympathy.  He  was  a  most  devoted  and  tender  father  to  his  children, 
and  he  made  them  very  happy." 

"  I  cannot  express  to  you  how  much  we  feel  for  you  and  your 
wife  in  this  sad  bereavement.  I  have  thought  much  since  the 
receipt  of  your  letter  of  the  friendship  that  existed  between  my 
Georgie  and  your  Allie,  —  a  friendship  that  was  remarkable  for 
their  years.  How  happy  they  were  together,  and  how  pleasantly 
they  played,  without  an  unkind  word  to  mar  their  intercourse ! 
Have  we  not  reason  to  hope  that  that  intercourse  is  now  renewed. 


56 


and  that  if  we  could  see  them  now,  we  should  see  them  both 
together  with  their  blessed  Saviour,  in  the  full  fruition  of  His  love? 
...  I  know  how  much  you  will  feel  this  loss  of  Allie,  who  was 
your  constant  companion;  but  I  have  confidence  that  He  who  has 
wounded  will  also  heal. 

"  It  is  a  great  disappointment  and  grief  to  me  that  I  cannot 
again  see  those  dear  children.  Every  one  who  has  seen  them 
speaks  so  fondly  of  them.  Their  grandfather  seems  to  feel  their 
death  very  much;  frequently  he  alludes  to  their  singing  so  sweetly, 
and  to  their  many  winning  ways. 

'  Around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven 
Thousands  of  children  stand.' 

Is  it  not  a  delightful  thought  that  they  are  safe  with  Jesus  there, 
and  that  the  troubles  of  this  world  cannot  harm  them  ?  Give  much 
love  to  Mr.  Richardsqn.  He  loved  his  children  so  tenderly  !  may 
the  love  of  Jesus  comfort  his  heart  !  " 

From  a  Letter  of  Dr.  Richardson  to  his   Wife. 

I  enclose  a  letter  from  S.  received  this  morning.  The  verses 
which  she  sends  are  very  touching,  and  have  made  me  shed  many 
tears,  —  not  altogether  of  sorrow,  for  I  think  of  the  joy  unspeakable 
when  the  little  ones  shall  leap  up  to  welcome  us  when  we  get  home. 
It  is  harder  for  us  to  wait  outside  the  gate  than  for  them  within  ; 
but  it  will  soon  be  past,  and  then  we  can  clasp  them  in  our  arms 
and  never  let  them  go  again  :  — 

WAITING    AT    THE    GATE. 

It  was  a  summer  morning,  long  ago, 

When  two  of  my  own  kindred  left  their  child 

To  be  my  guest  till  eve. 

I  loved  the  boy ;  for  none  could  see  his  face  and  love  him  not. 

His  lofty,  blue-veined  brow  the  golden  locks 

Encircled  like  a  crown ;  and  from  his  eyes, 

Blue  as  the  heaven  of  that  midsummer  day. 

Shone  out  a  soul  like  the  beloved  John's,  — 

As  he  were  born  to  some  high  destiny. 

The  roses  were  in  bloom,  the  grass  was  green. 

And  from  the  vine-crowned  porch  we  two  went  forth  — 

The  child  and  I  —  to  pass  the  day  abroad ; 

To  wander  unconstrained  beneath  the  trees ; 


57 


To  roam  the  garden,  visit  all  the  flowers, 

Peep  into  bird's-nests,  chase  the  butterflies, 

Or,  wearied,  to  lie  down  upon  the  grass 

And  watch  the  sunshine  through  the  maple  boughs. 

And  thus  the  happy  day  had  almost  passed. 

When,  lying  there  in  pleasant  revery, 

The  boy  was  for  a  little  while  forgot; 

Waking  to  consciousness,  I  found  him  gone. 

In  anxious  haste  I  rose,  and  roaming  round 

Among  the  shrubs  and  trees  that  most  he  loved. 

At  length  I  found  my  charge  beside  the  gate. 

Yes,  there  he  waiting  lay,  I  knew  for  whom,  — 

His  father  and  his  mother,  best  beloved. 

The  sun  declining  shed  its  warm,  bright  rays 

Full  on  his  angel  face  and  golden  hair ; 

And  there  he  lay  and  stirred  not,  till  at  last 

Across  the  village  green  their  shadows  fell, — 

Which  quite  restored  his  sunshine.     Up  he  sprang, 

And  with  a  shout  of  gladness  welcomed  them. 

I  said  't  was  long  ago  ;  and  years  have  passed 

.Since  the  dear  eyes,  that  were  so  lustrous  then. 

Were  quenched  in  night.     There  is  a  little  grave 

Where  he  and  one  sweet  sister,  side  by  side. 

Near  the  great  ocean  with  its  swells  and  falls. 

Sleep  on,  nor  waken  to  each  other's  kiss  ; 

And  other  children  fill  their  parents'  home,  — 

Their  home  no  more.     But  in  my  dreams  of  heaven 

Full  oft  I  see  the  child  so  much  beloved 

Waiting  beside  "  the  ever-during  gate." 

No  light  of  sun  or  star  falls  on  him  there. 

But  the  divine  effulgence.     There  he  lies. 

In  gleam  of  jasper,  amethyst,  and  pearl. 

As  lovely  as  the  seraph  nearest  Christ, 

With  sweet  celestial  music  in  his  ears. 

Waiting  till  death,  which  severed,  shall  restore. 

We  talk  of  happiness  beneath  the  sun. 

When  the  long  parted  clasp  each  other's  hands, 

And  sit  together  by  their  household  fire  ; 

But  who  shall  speak  or  dream  of  ecstasy. 

Save  those  who  meet  inside  the  gates  of  pearl, 

Where  sin  defiles  and  tears  are  shed  no  more  ! 


58 


From  Mr.  Goodhue's  Last  Letter  to  Dr.  Richardson. 

1865. 

My  time  is  undoubtedly  short.  Of  course  at  this  stage  of  the 
disease  it  is  hard  to  say  how  short  ;  but  there  are  indications  that 
my  life  can  now  be  numbered  by  a  few  weeks  (if  not  days).  I  am 
quite  comfortable.  I  enjoy  much  peace  of  mind,  especially  at  times. 
Heaven  seems  bright  and  glorious.  The  prospect  of  being  freed 
from  all  corruption,  and  of  being  admitted  to  the  enjoyment  of  our 
blessed  Saviour,  fills  me  with  joy  unspeakable.  ...  I  have  not 
much  trouble  in  giving  up  this  world.  My  dear  wife  and  little 
ones  lie  very  near  to  my  heart,  —  especially  my  wife,  —  but  I  do 
not  suffer  myself  to  dwell  much  upon  the  sundering  of  these 
earthly  ties.  I  rather  wish  to  think  of  these  earthly  friendships 
as  only  interrupted  for  a  short  time,  to  be  renewed  forever  in 
heaven. 

It  is  thus  that  I  desire  to  think  of  that  love  that  has  existed 
between  us.  Your  friendship  has  been  a  bright  ray  of  sunshine 
for  many  j'ears.  It  has  been  so  kind,  unselfish,  and  constant.  May 
we  not  indulge  the  hope  that  it  is  a  Christian  love,  that  it  is  to  be 
continued  hereafter,  purified,  intensified,  and  subordinated  to  the 
supreme  love  to  God.  Oh,  I  trust  it  will  be  so  !  You  have  passed 
through  severe  afflictions,  and  many  more  may  await  you;  but  how 
true  it  is  that  they  are  but  for  a  moment,  and  light  in  comparison 
to  all  of  this  future  glory  and  felicity. 

I  felt  like  writing  to  you  these  few  lines,  not  knowing  how  long 
I  may  be  able.  I  find  a  strong  desire  to  see  your  face  again  in 
this  world,  but  God  knows  what  is  best,  and  will  order  all  things 
well. 


THE   TRENTON    PASTORATE. 


THE    TRENTON    PASTORATE. 


SKETCHES   BY   TRENTON    FRIENDS. 

OUR  dear  Dr.  Richardson  was  so  many  sided  a  man  that  only 
a  full  biography  could  at  all  unfold  his  character.  Of  noble 
lineage,  spirited  as  a  knightly  cavalier,  a  genius  by  birth,  a  scholar 
and  writer  by  culture,  a  Christian  minister  by  the  most  resistless 
convictions,  he  presented  a  rare  combination  of  qualities. 

I  only  venture  to  speak  of  him  as  a  preacher  and  as  a  lover 
of  the  young.  It  was  my  privilege  to  sit  under  his  ministry 
when  a  long  experience  in  written  discourse  had  perfected 
his  logical  and  illustrative  methods,  chastened  his  style  into  its 
most  polished  structure,  and  given  to  his  elocution  the  force  and 
fitness  of  natural  delivery  cultivated  into  exquisite  adaptation  to 
the  words  he  was  uttering  and  the  truths  he  was  enforcing.  He 
now  for  the  first  time  seems  to  have  realized  a  capacity  for 
extempore  speech,  —  if  the  product  of  such  training  or  the 
untrammelled  expression  of  the  general  content  of  such  writing 
can  be  called  extempore  at  all.  His  discourse  took  on  new 
vigor  and  his  rare  eloquence  new  power.  Those  who  had 
heard  him  with  such  pleasure  and  profit  before,  now  wondered 
in  surprise,  not  less  than  those  who  had  become  more  recently 
his  hearers.  Apparently  with  no  ambitions  outside  of  his  parish, 
he  was  seldom  heard  except  from  his  own  pulpit.  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  affirm  that  there  were  few  pulpits  in  the  land  that 
witnessed  such  sustained  power.     From  the  luxurious  vintage 


62 


we  recall  here  and  there  a  sermon  which  will  serve  as  a  type. 
One  day  he  read  as  his  text  part  of  a  chapter  containing  the 
various  names  of  those  to  whom  Paul  sent  salutations,  and  then, 
in  a  sermon  on  Christian  fellowship,  he  made  name  after  name 
to  glow  with  grace  and  grandeur.  It  seemed  as  if  the  goodly 
company  of  the  saints  had  assembled,  and  as  if  Paul,  by  his 
lips,  declared  and  manifested  the  love  of  love,  —  the  fervent 
fellowship  of  Christianity. 

On  another  occasion,  on  the  oft-chosen  theme  of  the  Garden 
and  the  Crucifixion,  he  reproduced  the  scene,  presented  the 
argument,  and  reached  his  conclusions  with  such  pervasive  elo- 
quence, that  although  he  spoke  for  seventy-five  minutes,  many 
of  his  audience  were  as  oblivious  as  himself  to  the  lapse  of  time. 

He  loved  occasionally  to  preach  at  the  asylum  for  the  insane, 
and  with  his  calm,  impressive  manner  to  unfold  and  instil  the 
precious  truths  and  consolations  of  the  gospel.  Once  as  he 
finished,  a  patient  stepped  rapidly  and  politely  forward,  and 
said,  "  Sir,  has  Jesus  Christ  secured  you  as  His  attorney?"  An 
advocate  with  the  Father  was  evidently  the  pressing  thought  of 
the  hearer. 

As  to  his  interest  in  the  young,  all  were  familiar  with  it  in  the 
Sabbath  school.  A  good  woman  in  humble  life,  anxious  for  her 
growing  sons,  said  to  me  some  time  after  he  left  us,  "  Oh,  how 
I  feel  the  need  of  him  to  help  me  look  after  my  boys  !  " 

He  cherished  a  lively  interest  in  the  pupils  of  the  State 
Normal  School,  and  in  organizing  their  several  Bible  classes 
that  met  in  the  church  on  Sabbath  mornings.  His  labors  in 
this  direction  were  much  blessed,  and  it  was  noticeable  how 
many  of  the  scholars  from  successive  classes  united  with  the 
church  during  his  ministry. 

He  parted  from  us  with  rare  forecast  and  planning  for  our 
future  welfare,  and  with  twofold  cords  of  pastoral  and  personal 
regard  still  binding  him  to  our  hearts  and  to  our  memories. 


63 


Dr.  Richardson  felt  his  pastorate  in  Trenton  to  be  especially 
important  because  of  the  large  number  of  young  people  in  his 
congregation,  many  of  whom  were  drawn  to  the  city  by  reason 
of  the  State  schools.  With  the  teachers  of  these  schools  he 
cordially  co-operated  in  all  that  would  make  their  work  effi- 
cient, and  greatly  aided  them  in  stimulating  the  mental  and 
moral  energies  of  their  pupils.  Most  of  these  pupils  were 
being  trained  for  teachers,  and  would  in  their  turn  mould  other 
minds.  He  welcomed  them  to  his  church  and  to  his  pleasant 
home,  interested  himself  in  their  social  life,  gathered  them  into 
his  Bible  class,  and  made  himself  personally  acquainted  with 
them  all.  It  is  the  pleasure  of  many  to  look  back  to  days  when, 
for  the  first  time  away  from  home,  and  surrounded  by  new  faces, 
all  loneliness  was  dispelled  by  the  pastor's  timely  visit  and  kind 
greeting ;  and  those  who  were  far  from  their  own  kindred  will 
long  remember  his  hospitality  at  holiday  seasons.  That  hos- 
pitality was  further  exercised  in  times  when  greatly  needed. 
One  can  tell  of  being  left  lonely  in  the  large  boarding-house 
because  a  contagious  disease  had  broken  out,  sending  others  to 
their  homes  for  safety.  She  —  an  orphan,  and  fearing  the  only 
relatives  to  whom  she  could  go  might  hesitate  to  receive  her 
with  risks  of  infection  —  was  sought  out  and  cordially  welcomed 
to  the  parsonage.  Another,  to  whom  came  tidings  of  the  sudden 
death  of  her  widowed  mother  in  her  distant  Southern  home, 
found  in  the  same  parsonage  for  years  the  care  and  love 
which  helped  her  to  bear  her  great  loss,  and  which  eventually 
made  of  a  thoughtless  child  an  earnest,  efficient  Christian 
woman. 

Numberless  instances  might  be  given  to  show  the  deep  interest 
Dr.  Richardson  took  in  these  students.  Often  as  they  passed  be- 
fore his  study  windows,  or  filled  to  overflowing  his  church  and 
Sunday  school,  he  was  moved  almost  to  tears  at  thoughts  of 
the  possibilities  of  their  lives  ;  and  that  they  might  be  fitted 
to  meet  responsibilities  well,  he  labored  untiringly.  At  almost 
every  communion  he  received  some  of  them  into  the  member- 


64 


ship  of  his  church  ;  and  long  after  they  had  passed  from  under 
his  care,  he  watched  their  spiritual  growth,  giving  them,  as 
occasion  offered,  counsel  and  help.  Some  of  them  are  now, 
as  teachers,  exerting  a  wide  influence.  Some  in  other  fields 
are  earnest  Christian  workers,  and  some  whom  he  first  led  to 
the  Lord's  table  are  now  with  him  in  the  heavenly  mansions, 
among  the  blessed  "  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage  supper 
of  the  Lamb." 

Dr.  Richardson's  home  life  occupied  a  very  large  place  in  his 
affections  and  interests,  and  he  was  to  an  unusual  degree  capa- 
ble of  making  the  lives  of  those  who  were  privileged  to  share 
the  home  with  him,  happier  and  more  useful.  If  he  was  obliged 
to  be  away  from  his  family  at  any  time,  it  was  a  rare  thing  for 
a  day  to  pass  in  which  he  did  not  write  to  them  ;  and  these 
letters,  now  so  carefully  treasured,  are  full  of  expressions  of  his 
love  and  tenderness.  A  few  extracts  from  letters  to  his  wife 
may  not  be  out  of  place  in  this  sketch  :  — 

"  But  how  many  pleasant  features  there  are  in  pastoral  life  ;  and 
especially  how  many  precious  friendships  it  enables  one  to  form  ! 
I  am  more  obliged  to  the  dear  family  you  speak  of,  and  to  others, 
for  their  kindness  than  I  can  possibly  express." 

"  Now  I  must  say  good-by.  I  love  you  dearly,  and  my  eyes  fill 
with  tears  as  I  look  at  your  picture  as  it  liangs  above  the  mantel, 
and  think  how  poorly  I  have  repaid  your  wifely  love  and  devotion 
through  all  these  years  of  our  wedded  life.  I  want  to  be  a  better 
husband  and  father  than  I  have  ever  been, —  more  gentle,  patient, 
thoughtful,  and  sympathizing  ;  and  I  pray  for  divine  help  that  I 
may  so  be." 

"  I  have  now  been  absent  from  you  a  whole  week,  and  can  say 
that  next  week  I  hope  to  be  at  home  again.  That  seems  to  bring 
it  a  little  nearer,  does  it  not  .''  I  am  just  as  anxious  to  be  with  you 
as  possible,  —  think  of  you,  long  for  you  every  moment." 

September  7,  1886. 
My  Dearest  Wife, —  I    am  not   forgetting  that  thirty-three 
years  ago  to-day  I  had  the  privilege  of  addressing  you  by  this  title; 
neither  do  I  forget  that  through  all  these  intervening  years  you 


65 


have  more  than  fulfilled  all  that  this  title  implies,  and  more  than 
myenthusiastic  love  anticipated.  Nor  do  I  forget  that,  much  as  that 
title  meant  on  that  day,  it  means  more  this  day  ;  and  if  there  were 
any  degree  beyond  the  superlative  "  dearest,"  I  would  use  it  in  the 
present  address.  .  .  .  Once  more  accept  my  thanks  for  tiiree  and 
thirty  years  of  love  and  wifely  devotion,  and  extend  your  pardon 
for  all  that  I   have  been  or  done  to  show  myself  unworthy  of  it. 

Some  fathers  are  more  or  less  strangers  to  their  children  ;  but 
he  was  never  too  tired  or  busy  to  listen  to  all  their  plans,  to 
help  them  in  their  studies,  or  to  enter  into  their  amusements. 
Even  when  he  was  writing  his  sermons  the  children  were  allowed 
to  play  in  a  corner  of  his  study,  or  to  sit  there  and  read ;  and 
when  their  father  went  about  his  parish  on  his  frequent  visits  to 
his  people,  one  child  or  the  other  generally  held  his  hand  and 
trotted  along  beside  him. 

In  all  the  families  where  these  calls  led  him  his  welcome  was 
always  warm  and  affectionate.  Especially  was  he  received  with 
delight  among  the  poor  and  unfortunate  of  his  flock ;  and  how 
much  they  appreciated  the  visit  I  His  manners,  elegant  and 
courtly,  were  equally  adapted  to  adorn  the  choicest  society  or 
to  please  the  most  ignorant.  Once,  when  calling  on  a  lady, 
he  omitted  to  send  up  his  card;  and  the  maid  reported  to  her 
mistress,  "Such  a  grand  gentleman,  ma'am,  wants  to  see  you." 

He  certainly  had  an  uncommon  facility  for  suiting  his  con- 
versation to  any  hearer.  A  young  man,  in  speaking  of  him 
some  years  after  the  interview  to  which  he  referred,  said  :  "  He 
was  awfully  interesting." 

Dr.  Richardson  was  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  Nature,  and  very 
much  devoted  to  the  study  of  trees,  birds,  and  animals.  He 
was  extremely  fond  of  gunning  and  fishing,  and  for  many  years 
always  took  a  trip  to  the  West  in  the  fall,  where,  with  the  true 
sportsman's  ardor,  he  tramped  over  the  prairies  in  search  of  game. 
He  said  once  that  Esau  was  one  of  his  favorite  Biblical  char- 
acters, because  "  he  was  a  mighty  hunter ;  "  and  he  was  fond  of 
telling  his  friends  that  he  loved  preaching  and  gunning  better 

9 


66 


than  any  other  occupations.  During  his  last  iUness  he  said 
longingly,  "  How  I  wish  I  might  have  one  more  good  hunt 
before  I  die  !  " 

He  greatly  enjoyed  books  that  related  to  these  favorite  sports 
of  his,  and  read  all  of  Cooper's  "  Leatherstocking  Tales  "  two 
or  three  times  a  year. 

He  was  a  cultivated  musician,  and  inherited  from  his  father, 
who  sang  with  great  pathos  and  power,  an  unusually  correct  ear, 
and  a  fine,  true  voice.  He  was  very  anxious  that  his  children 
should  be  well  trained  musically ;  and  he  taught  them  to  read 
notes,  even  before  a  printed  page  contained  much  meaning  for 
them.  He  always  played  the  accompaniments  for  the  hymns 
which  he  delighted  to  sing  at  family  prayers ;  and  often  in  an 
evening  meeting  he  led  the  singing.  He  knew  a  great  deal 
about  church  music,  and  it  was  for  years  a  cherished  scheme 
of  his  to  pubhsh  a  hymn  book  containing  nothing  but  good 
music. 

Dr.  Richardson  also  had  an  extensive  collection  of  quaint 
old  songs  and  ballads,  and  enjoyed  singing  them,  especially  to 
his  children.  In  the  morning  he  nearly  always  seated  himself 
at  the  piano  while  he  waited  for  breakfast ;  and  it  is  a  pleasant 
picture  which  his  family  recall,  —  that  of  seeing  him  bending 
over  the  keys,  and  filling  the  house  with  melody,  even  at  the 
beginning  of  the  day. 

His  chief  delight  in  music,  however,  was  in  the  works  of  the 
great  composers ;  and  he  held  Beethoven  in  almost  reverential 
love  and  admiration.  Nothing  pleased  him  more  than  to  have 
some  friend  play  the  master's  sonatas  for  him  ;  and  whenever 
he  was  able  to  enjoy  the  privilege,  he  listened  entranced  to  a 
symphony  or  an  oratorio.  The  changes  in  musical  matters 
during  the  past  thirty  years  interested  him  deeply,  and  he 
was  fully  in  sympathy  with  many  things  in  the  works  of  more 
recent  composers. 

Of  beauty  in  all  its  manifestations,  whether  in  poetry,  paint- 
ing, music,  or  in  nature,  he  was  a  sincere  admirer  and  a  thor- 


67 


oughly  appreciative  student.  Surely,  to  a  nature  thus  constituted, 
the  celestial  music,  the  glorious  visions,  and  the  "  fadeless  green 
of  paradise  "  must  bring  wonderful  peace  and  happiness. 

No  wonder  that  Dr.  Richardson  endeared  himself  to  all 
hearts.  The  little  children  in  the  infant  school  of  his  Trenton 
church  used  to  watch  for  him  to  enter  their  room  on  Sunday 
afternoons,  and  it  was  a  common  occurrence  for  them  to  bring 
him  flowers,  which  often  they  had  watched  and  tended  solely 
for  the  "  Doctor."  One  Sunday  he  was  greatly  touched  by  this 
little  act  of  one  of  them  :  As  he  walked  up  the  aisle  of  the 
infant  schoolroom,  a  small  girl  who  sat  at  the  end  of  the  pew 
seized  his  hand,  and  holding  it  a  moment,  affectionately  kissed 
it,  much  to  his  surprise  and  pleasure. 

From  the  Miiuctes  of  the  Session  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Trenton,  N.f. 

The  Session  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  Trenton  de- 
sire to  record  their  deep  and  abiding  sense  of  the  faithful  and  effi- 
cient service  rendered  to  them  and  to  the  church  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Richardson  during  the  vacant  pastorate  from  the  resignation  of 
Dr.  Hall  to  the  installation  of  Mr.  Dixon. 

The  able  and  instructive  discourse  and  the  touching  words  of 
Dr.  Richardson  on  declaring  vacant  the  pulpit  oE  this  church ;  his 
prompt  and  constant  attendance  as  moderator  upon  the  meetings 
of  the  Session;  his  wise  suggestions  and  prudent  counsels  in  our  de- 
liberations, —  entitle  him  to  our  warmest  gratitude,  and  have  greatly 
increased  and  strengthened  our  esteem  and  respect,  long  before 
so  deeply  entertained  for  him. 

This  Session  heartily  recognizes  the  great  obligations  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson has  laid  us  under,  and  in  grateful  appreciation  thereof,  for 
ourselves  and  in  behalf  of  the  church,  we  extend  to  him  our 
warmest  thanks,  the  assurances  of  our  most  respectful  considera- 
tion, and  our  most  earnest  wishes  for  his  health  and  happiness. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  minutes  be  sent  to  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson by  the  clerk  of  the  Session. 

Hugh  H.  Hamill, 

Clerk  of  the  Session  of  the  First 

Presbyterian  Church,  Tre titan,  N.f. 
27  October,    1S84. 


68 


Rev.  Dr.  Richardson's  Retirement  (1887). 

At  a  meeting  of  the  congregation  of  the  Fourth  Presbyterian 
Church,  held  on  the  evening  of  the  9th  instant,  the  following 
resolutions  were  adopted  :  — 

Whereas,  this  congregation  has  heard  from  Rev.  Dr.  Richard- 
son tliis  evening  a  statement  of  the  reasons  which  in  his  judgment 
make  it  necessary  for  him  to  tender  his  resignation  as  pastor  of 
this  church;  therefore, 

Resolved,  That  we  have  received  the  announcement  of  his  pur- 
pose with  the  most  profound  regret. 

Resolved,  That  it  is  with  no  mere  customary  expression  of 
sorrow  that  we  recognize  the  fact  that  the  necessity  for  rest  after 
his  long  and  continuous  service  in  the  ministry  will  not  permit  him 
to  continue  a  pastorate  which,  for  almost  nineteen  years,  has  been 
distinguished  by  an  unceasing  devotion  to  the  Master's  cause,  by 
the  most  earnest  interest  in  and  anxious  solicitude  for  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  his  congregation,  by  a  faithful  and  unfaltering  exposition 
of  Divine  truth,  by  rare  eloquence  and  conspicuous  ability  in  the 
pulpit,  by  wisdom  and  prudence  and  charity  in  his  daily  walk  and 
conversation  and  in  all  his  intercourse  and  relations  with  his  peo- 
ple, and  by  warm  Christian  sympathy  in  the  hour  of  our  sorrow 
and  afHiction. 

Resolved,  That  it  is  with  unfeigned  sorrow  that  we  feel  con- 
strained by  a  sense  of  duty  to  our  pastor  to  yield  our  consent  to 
join  with  him  in  his  request  to  Presbytery  for  a  dissolution  of  his 
pastoral  relation  with  this  church;  we  do  so  under  the  conviction 
that  he  has  prayerfully  considered  the  step  he  has  taken,  and  has 
been  guided  by  Divine  wisdom  in  the  resolution  he  has  formed. 

Resolved,  That  we  will  cherish  him  in  memory,  not  only  as  a 
faithful  and  beloved  pastor,  but  also  as  a  personal  friend  and 
Christian  brother;  and  that  in  his  separation  from  us  he  will  bear 
with  him  the  esteem  and  love  of  this  entire  congregation  and 
people,  which  he  has  so  worthily  won  and  so  firmly  retained  ;  and 
that  we  will  ever  be  ready  to  welcome  him  to  our  hearts  and  homes. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  furnislied  to  our 
pastor,  and  a  copy  be  also  presented  to  Presbytery. 


69 


Resolutions  on  Dr.  Richardson's  Resignation  in  Trenton. 

Whereas,  at  a  called  meeting  of  the  Session  of  the  Fourth 
Presbyterian  Church  on  Wednesday  evening,  April  27th,  1887,  our 
beloved  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Richardson,  tendered  his  resignation,  to 
our  surprise  and  regret;  and  whereas  for  nearly  nineteen  years  he 
has  so  faithfully  ministered  to  us  in  word  and  doctrine,  going  in 
and  out  before  us,  breaking  to  us  the  bread  of  life,  never  failing  to 
declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God  ;  his  earnest  desire  has  been 
to  have  men  accept  Christ  as  the  Saviour  of  sinners  ;  he  has 
presented  the  great  cardinal  doctrines  of  the  Bible  with  distinctive 
clearness,  as  formulated  in  the  Westminster  Confession  ;  as  a 
Session  we  can  testify  that  no  uncertain  sound  has  emanated  from 
this  pulpit,  but  that  the  great  doctrines  of  the  Bible  have  been  pre- 
sented with  a  fearlessness  that  convinces  of  their  importance  and 
his  faithfulness  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 

And  whereas,  by  his  great  kindness  and  gentleness  he  has 
endeared  himself  to  us  ;  more  especially  have  we  been  turned  to 
him  as  our  pastor,  for  he  has  baptized  our  children,  stood  at  the 
altar  and  united  them  in  holy  matrimony,  ministered  to  our  sick 
and  suffering,  buried  our  dead,  comforted  and  consoled  us  in  our 
bereavements,  commending  us  all  to  the  spirit  of  God's  grace  and 
mercy  ;  therefore, 

Resolved,  That  in  severing  this  connection  so  long  and  so  peace- 
ful, we  as  a  Session  desire  to  bear  our  testimony  to  his  uniform  kind- 
ness and  our  great  love  for  him  who  has  borne  our  shortcomings 
with  such  great  Christian  consideration. 

Resolved,  That  wherever  God  in  His  mercy  may  cast  his  lot, 
our  prayer  shall  follow  him  that  his  days  may  be  prolonged,  that 
his  life  and  health  may  be  spared,  that  he  may  be  permitted  to  tell 
his  dying  fellovvmen  of  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ  and  com- 
mend them  to  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant. 

Resolved,  That  we  bow  in  humble  submission  to  this  dispensa- 
tion that  separates  us  from  our  beloved  pastor  whom  we  have 
known  so  long  and  loved  so  well. 

A.  A.  Hutchinson. 
Wm.   D.  Sinclair. 
R.  L.  Hutchinson. 
C.  S.  Cook. 
A.  C.  Apgar. 


70 


Ffom  a  Member  of  the  T}-e?iton  Church  at  the  Tune  of  his 
Resignaiioji. 

My  very  dear  Pastor,  —  I  cannot  express  to  you  my  surprise 
and  grief  when  I  heard  last  night  of  your  proposition.  Can  you 
not  reconsider  the  matter?  ...  I  have  most  earnestly  wished  and 
hoped  that  we  (my  husband  and  I)  might  never  be  obliged  to 
transfer  the  endearing  name  of  pastor  to  another.  Perhaps  I  am 
too  selfish  in  this.  I  know  that  your  labors  are  arduous,  and  that 
your  health  is  not  perfect.  I  suppose  my  keenest  appreciation  of 
the  constant  cares,  anxieties,  and  sympathies  of  a  faithful  pastor  do 
not  reach  a  hundredth  part  of  the  reality.  I  hope  we  may  all  be 
guided  aright  by  a  kind  and  unerring  Providence. 

Whatever  may  be  your  decision,  I  shall  never  cease  to  be  deeply 
grateful  that  I  have  so  long  enjoyed  your  ministrations  and  your 
friendship. 

Frofji  Letters  written  during  the  Trenton  Pastorate,  when 
Dr.  Richardson  was  dangerously  ill. 

My  dear  Pastor, —  I  am  looking  back  with  pleasure  to  the 
days  when  I  could  see  you  and  talk  with  you,  and  forward  with 
longing  to  the  time  when  I  shall  see  you  in  the  accustomed 
places.  .  .  .  Wherever  I  go,  the  first  question  from  whomever  I 
meet  is  concerning  the  health  of  my  dear  pastor.  So  many  say  they 
don't  "  know  how  to  wait  ;"  they  long  to  see  and  hear  you.  So 
you  see  that  the  loneliness  and  pain  and  longing  for  your  restora- 
tion are  not  all  yours.  And  how  earnest  and  constant  are  the 
prayers  for  you,  in  the  church,  and  at  the  family  altar,  and  in  the 
closet !  .  .  .  We  owe  you  more  than  we  can  express.  You  have 
given  us  those  things  which  cannot  be  taken  from  us,  — greater 
knowledge  of  and  love  for  the  best  things,  and  bright  examples. 

I  hope  we  may  not  be  presumptuous  or  officious  ;  but  we  desire 
to  prove  our  affection  by  any  means  in  our  power. 

With  love  to  the  shepherdess,  and  honor  and  love  for  yourself. 
Yours  in  sincerity, 


"  We  miss  your  kindly,  comforting  presence  so  constantly  that 
we  find  it  hard  to  '  count  it  all  joy,  and  in  everything  give  thanks.' 
.  .  .  We  oftentimes  find  it  a  difficult  duty  just  to  leave  you  in  the 
Lord's  hands  and  patiently  wait  His  time;  and  yet  our  only  real 
comfort  is  the  consciousness  that  you  (and  we  all)  are  in  His  faith- 


71 


ful  keeping,  and  that  He  will  send  us  every  blessing  just  at  the  right 
time.  I  wish  so  much,  dear  doctor,  that  I  knew  how  to  write  some 
comforting  thoughts  which  might  prove  '  a  word  in  season  to  one 
who  is  weary.'  " 

"  I  know  that  the  words  of  sweet  comfort  and  promise  which 
you  have  so  often  spoken  to  others,  and  which  have  made  you  so 
precious  to  us  all,  were  not  unmeaning  words  to  you,  but  tried 
ones,  and  that  the  dear  Lord  will  bring  all  things  to  your  remem- 
brance, according  to  your  need." 

Dear  Pastor,  —  We  desire  to  express  to  you  our  sympathy 
in  your  illness,  feeling  that  your  trials  are  ours,  even  as  you  have 
made  our  trials  yours  in  days  past.  We  appreciate  your  faithful 
and  loving  labors  among  your  people,  and  we  earnestly  desire  to 
see  you  restored  to  health  and  strength.  Believing  that  complete 
rest  from  pastoral  duty  will  contribute  to  this  end,  with  your  con- 
sent we  will  be  glad  to  attend  to  supplying  the  pulpit  for  the  next 
two  months. 

Yours  truly  and  affectionately, 

Elias  Cook,  ^ 

B.  Van  Syckel,  |   ^«  ^f^^^'f 

Wm.  W.  L.  Phillips, 

Charles  Brearley, 

A.  A.  Hutchinson, 


of  the 

Officers  of 

the  Church. 


A  Letter  to  his  Trenton  Physician. 

20  East  32D  Street,  New  York, 
Dec.  21,  1S91. 

My  dear  Friend,  —  I  send  my  Christmas  greetings  in  time,  so 
that  you  will  be  sure  to  have  them  when  the  Advent  morning 
comes.  I  wish  that  I  could  have  some  more  substantial  blessing 
to  greet  you  with,  every  morning  of  the  year  when  you  come  down 
from  your  nightly  rest ;  but  after  all,  words  and  wishes  are  far 
from  valueless.  A  word  spoken  in  season,  how  good  is  it !  We 
have  the  wise  man's  authority  for  that,  and  we  have  the  testimony 
of  our  own  experience.  How  often  have  we  found  richest  blessing 
in  a  good  word  spoken  to  ourselves  at  the  right  time,  or  spoken  by 
ourselves  to  some  other  to  whom  the  kindly  voice  came  as  balm 
in  sickness,  strength  in  weakness,  comfort  in  sorrow,  hope  and 
courage  in  despondency !    I  should  like  to  say  such  word  to  you 


72 


and  yours  as  would  be  all  this.     At  least  I  can  wish  it,  and  so 
I  do. 

I  have  been  made  very  sorry  by  learning,  a  few  days  ago,  that 
you  were  suffering  from  what  I  trust  will  be  only  a  temporary  dis- 
ablement of  one  of  your  hands.  Well,  that  is  a  great  misfortune  ; 
but  if  that  hand  could  but  think  and  speak,  what  a  host  of  recollec- 
tions it  could  recall,  and  what  a  story  it  would  have  to  tell  of  the 
times  it  has  administered  relief  to  the  suffering,  lifted  from  the  bed 
of  sickness  to  healthful  activity,  rescued  life  from  impending  death! 
But  you  can  think  for  it,  and  the  thinking,  I  am  sure,  ought  to  make 
you  very  happy  in  the  remembrance  of  all  it  has  done.  Certainly  I 
have  reason  for  grateful  remembrance  of  what  it  has  done  for  me. 
I  easily  recall  the  many  times  I  have  waited  for  your  coming,  and 
how  thankfully  I  accepted  its  kindly  service.  It  is  given  to  but 
few  men  of  any  other  profession  than  yours  to  indulge  in  such 
pleasant  retrospections.  I  can  but  hope  that  this  service  may  long 
be  continued;  but  if  it  should  not,  be  grateful  for  the  past.  The 
time  is  drawing  rapidly  near  to  you  and  to  me  —  and  these  anni- 
versaries remind  us  very  forcibly  of  it  —  when  all  disabilities  shall 
be  removed,  and  when  we  shall  have  no  more  suffering  nor  sick- 
ness ourselves,  and  no  need  to  offer  service  of  help  and  healing  to 
others.  The  dear  Lord  whose  birth  we  celebrate  will  then  have 
healed  all  our  infirmities  and  renewed  our  youth,  and  from  His 
presence  we  shall  go  no  more  out  thenceforth  and  forever.  Much 
love  from  all  with  me  to  all  with  you. 

Affectionately  yours, 

R.  H.  Richardson. 


FUNERAL  SERVICES   AND    PUBLIC 
TRIBUTES. 


FUNERAL   SERVICES    AND    PUBLIC 
TRIBUTES. 


Services  at  Bayhead. 

A  SIMPLE  funeral  service  was  held  at  Bayhead  at  noon,  on 
Thursday,  June  i6.  Father's  old  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Gosman, 
of  Lavvrenceville,  N.  J.,  conducted  it,  assisted  by  Rev.  Mr. 
Armstrong  and  Dr.  Studdiford,  of  Trenton.  The  service  was 
just  what  father  would  have  liked,  I  think, — unostentatious,  and 
simple.  The  day  was  beautiful,  and  in  the  parlor  where  he  lay 
the  air  was  sweet  with  the  sea  breeze  which  came  through  the 
open  windows,  and  with  the  odor  of  the  magnolias.  A  large 
bunch  of  these  flowers  was  laid  on  the  coffin,  and  there  was 
one  lovely  bud  in  his  hand.  A  great  many  of  his  old  friends 
and  parishioners  came  from  out  of  town,  and  all  the  kind 
neighbors  at  Bayhead  came  to  look  their  last  on  the  man  who 
was  universally  respected  and  loved.  Among  these  were  a 
number  of  the  fishermen  and  boatmen,  in  whom  father  had 
always  taken  a  great  interest,  and  who  felt  for  him  a  deep  regard 
and  affection.  Six  of  these  men  carried  him  out  of  the  home 
which  had  been  so  pleasant,  and  as  tenderly  as  possible  Hfted 
the  coffin  which  contained  all  that  was  mortal  of  their  kind 
friend.  They  seemed  to  feel  greatly  honored  at  being  able  to 
perform  this  la^^t  service,  and  I  know  that  father  himself  would 
rather  have  had  them  than  any  one  else. 

Some  of  our  friends  very  kindly  helped  us  with  the  singing, 
and  the  two  hymns  which  were  sung  were  two  which  father 
particularly  liked,  and  which  he  often  repeated  during  his  ill- 


76 


ness,  —  part  of  Bernard's  beautiful  hymn,  beginning  with  the 

verse, 

"  Brief  life  is  here  our  portion," 
and 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord." 

m 

After  the  singing  of  the  first  hymn  Mr.  Armstrong  read  selec- 
tions from  the  Bible,  beginning  with  the  words,  "  And  I  heard 
a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Write,  Blessed  are  the  dead 
which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth  :  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit, 
that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors  ;  and  their  works  do  follow 
them." 

Then  Dr.  Gosman  gave  a  brief  sketch  of  father's  life  and 
work,  speaking  of  his  ability  as  a  preacher,  of  his  scholarly 
attainments,  and  of  the  amount  of  good  which  he  had  been 
enabled  to  accomplish.  He  told  of  his  great  interest  in  his 
people,  and  of  the  close  ties  which  bound  together  pastor  and 
people  in  the  various  parishes  to  which  he  had  ministered.  He 
paid  a  beautiful  tribute  to  his  devotion  to  his  home  and  family, 
and  to  his  affectionate,  unselfish  character,  manifesting  itself  in 
all  the  relations  of  life.  He  gave  no  elaborate  eulogy,  for  none 
was  needed.  To  the  faithful  servant  of  the  Master  the  reward 
and  the  crown  of  his  labor  had  been  given  already,  when  the 
heavenly  gates  had  opened  to  let  him  in. 

Dr.  Gosman's  loving  and  appreciative  words  were  appro- 
priately followed  by  Dr.  Studdiford's  beautiful  prayer,  which 
contained  great  comfort  and  peace  for  those  who  heard  it ;  and 
after  the  prayer  Dr.  Gosman,  in  accordance  with  a  request  of 
father's  made  not  long  before  he  died,  read  one  of  his  favorite 
poems,  "  The  Sleep,"  by  Mrs.  Browning.  How  often  we  have 
heard  him  repeat  these  two  verses  :  — 

"  '  Sleep  soft,  beloved  ! '  we  sometimes  say, 
But  have  no  tune  to  charm  away 
Sad  dreams  that  through  the  eyelids  creep ; 
But  never  doleful  dream  again 
Shall  break  the  happy  slumber  when 
He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep. 


n 

"  And  friends,  dear  friends,  when  it  shall  be 
That  this  low  breath  is  gone  from  me, 
And  round  my  bier  ye  come  to  weep. 
Let  one  most  loving  of  you  all 
Say, '  Not  a  tear  must  o'er  him  fall ! 
He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.'  " 

Dr.  Gosman's  benediction  brought  the  short  service  to  a 
close.  Then  the  quiet  face,  with  its  expression  of  great  peace 
and  happiness,  was  hidden  from  our  sight,  and  the  fishermen 
reverently  and  tenderly  lifted  the  coffin  which  held  all  that  was 
mortal  of  the  dear  master  of  the  house,  and  sofdy  carried  him 
out  to  complete  the  last  stage  of  his  journey. 

Services  at  Newburyport, 

In  1876,  during  a  long  and  suffering  illness,  Dr.  Richardson 
said  one  day,  "  When  I  die  I  would  like  to  be  carried  to  New- 
buryport and  laid  beside  the  children."  Through  the  watchful 
care  of  the  good  physician,  and  by  the  blessing  of  God,  he  was 
spared  nearly  sixteen  years  longer,  but  the  promise  was  given ; 
indeed,  no  other  place  could  have  been  thought  of.  The 
precious  plot  of  ground  at  the  end  of  the  "Evergreen  Path" 
was  a  dear  and  sacred  place.  The  little  graves  with  the  one 
headstone  tell  the  story. 

Christ  the  tender  shepherd  is  standing  with  one  lamb  in  His 
arms  and  another  by  His  side.     The  inscription  reads  :  — 

"  AND    he    took   them    UP    IN    HIS    ARMS," 
"  THE    PROMISE   IS    UNTO   YOU   AND   TO    YOUR   CHILDREN." 

The  cemetery  is  one  of  the  loveliest  in  New  England.  Look- 
ing eastward,  one  gets  a  glimpse  of  the  distant  sea.  In  summer 
it  is  a  garden  of  flowers,  and  the  birds  sing  joyfully  among  the 
trees. 

On  that  beautiful  day  last  June  a  group  of  mourning  friends 
and  former  parishioners  stood  around  an  empty  grave,  into 
which  was  laid  with  tender   care,   and  by  loving  hands,  the 


7S 


weary  pastor  who   had  come   home   to  sleep  "  until   the   day 
break,  and  the  shadows  flee  away." 

"  Rest,  weary  head ! 
Lie  down  to  slumber  in  the  peaceful  tomb ; 
Light  from  above  has  broken  through  its  gloom. 
Here  in  the  place  where  once  thy  Saviour  lay, 
Where  He  shall  wake  thee  on  a  distant  day, 
Like  a  tired  child  upon  its  mother's  breast, 
Rest,  sweetly  rest! 

"  Rest,  spirit  free  ! 
In  the  green  pastures  of  the  heavenly  shore, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  can  approach  no  more, 
With  all  the  flock  by  the  Good  Shepherd  fed, 
Beside  the  streams  of  life  eternal  led, 
Forever  with  thy  God  and  Saviour  blest, 
Rest,  sweetly  rest." 


Extract  from  A^e^vburyport  Paper. 

Amid  the  swaying  of  leaves,  surrounded  by  the  beauty  of  a  typical 
June  day,  with  tried  and  loving  friends  gathered  and  the  nearest  of 
kindred  assembled  around  the  open  grave,  was  committed  to  the 
keeping  of  the  "faithful  tomb"  in  Oak  Hill  Cemetery  on  Friday 
noon  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  R.  H.  Richardson.  The 
services  were  conducted  by  Rev.  IVIr.  Sinclair,  — a  successor  of  the 
deceased  to  the  Old  South  pulpit,  —  and  consisted  of  an  invocation, 
reading  of  Scriptural  selections,  prayer,  and  the  final  committal 
service  of  "  Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust."  The 
pall-bearers  consisted  of  Deacon  Eben  Rolfe,  Elders  Eben  Smith 
and  C.  M.  Pritchard,  —  representing  the  Old  South  Courch,  —  and 
Hon.  A.  C.  Titcomb,  Deacon  J.  B.  Creasey,  and  Capt.  T.  H.  Board- 
man,  selected  from  the  friends  of  the  deceased  clergyman.  There 
was  gathered  a  large  circle  of  the  former  parishioners  and  friends  of 
Dr.  Richardson,  who  were  very  strongly  attached  to  him,  and  who 
were  deeply  impressed  with  the  solemnities  of  the  hour  and  by  the 
loss  sustained  in  the  removal  of  one  who  had  so  strong  a  hold  upon 
their  hearts,  —  all  realizing  the  void  his  removal  had  created.  Dur- 
ing the  hour  of  the  solemnities  the  bell  of  the  Old  South  Church  was 
striking  out  its  peals,  proclaiming  to  all  that  another  of  its  honored 
pastors  had  laid  down  the  burden  of  life  and  closed  his  earthly 
career.     Beautiful  roses  lay  upon  the  casket,  and  at  its  head  was 


79 

placed  a  wreath  of  ivy  and  heliotrope,  the  gift  of  Hon.  A.  C.  Tit- 
comb.  The  earthly  farewells  are  spoken,  human  sufferings  are 
ended,  and  to  the  great  beyond  kindred  and  friends  look  with 
moistened  eyes  as  the  grave  closes  over  their  loved  husband, 
father,  pastor,  and  friend. 

Memorial  Services. 
From  the  Trenton  Paper. 

Rev.  Dr.  Studdiford,  of  the  Third  Presbyterian  Church,  and  Rev. 
Dr.  Gosman,  of  Lawrenceville,  were  in  the  pulpit  of  the  Fourth 
Presbyterian  Church  last  evening,  together  with  the  pastor  of  the 
church,  Rev.  Samuel  Harlow.  The  occasion  was  the  holding  of  a 
service  in  remembrance  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Richardson,  a  former 
pastor  of  the  church.  There  were  no  decorations  of  mourning. 
The  opening  prayer  was  by  the  pastor.  He  prayed  that  the  good 
work  done  by  Dr.  Richardson  might  ever  be  cherished  for  the 
glory  of  God. 

Rev.  Mr.  Harlow  announced  that  Rev.  Dr.  John  Hall  was  unable 
to  attend  the  service  on  account  of  illness. 

Rev.  Dr.  Gosman,  who  knew  Dr.  Richardson  for  forty-seven 
years,  preached  the  sermon. 

Dr.  Gosman  spoke  of  Dr.  Richardson's  sincere  piety  as  a  min- 
ister. As  a  friend  he  was  true  and  steadfast,  and  always  generous. 
His  home  life  was  beautiful,  and  was  his  delight. 

Dr.  Richardson  believed  that  he  was  called  to  the  ministry, 
and  would  not  have  remained  in  it  a  day  had  he  not  thought  so. 
He  was  a  man  of  rare  gifts.  He  was  decisive  and  commanding. 
He  was  a  theologian  of  high  order.  His  command  of  language 
was  remarkable.  His  reputation  does  not  depend  on  any  one  or 
a  few  sermons. 

Dr.  Gosman  concluded  by  saying  the  last  conversation  he  had 
with  Dr.  Richardson  was  in  reference  to  the  life  hereafter. 

Rev.  Dr.  Studdiford  followed  with  a  prayer,  in  which  God  was 
thanked  because  the  departed  minister  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ 
did  good  work  for  the  Master. 

Extracts  front  Dr.  Gosman  s  Sermon. 

Reared  in  a  Christian  home,  in  which  the  courtesies  and  culture 
which  grace  such  homes  reigned,  he  early  gave  his  heart  to  Christ, 
and  Christ  became  the  centre  of  his  faith  and  life.  This  must  be 
true  with  every  genuine  Christian ;  but  it  was  pre-eminently  true  with 


8o 


Dr.  Richardson.  Amid  all  the  assaults  of  unbelief  and  the  general 
unrest  which  characterize  our  day,  he  planted  his  feet  upon  this 
impregnable  rock,  and  was  undisturbed.  Whatever  else  might  seem 
to  fail,  Christ  could  not  fail,  and  with  Christ  the  issue  was  sure. 

Dr.  Richardson's  piety  was  deep,  sincere,  and  genuine.  He 
made  no  protestations  as  to  his  faith,  his  experiences,  or  his  hopes ; 
his  life  must  be  his  witness.  He  was  deeply  conscious  of  his  own 
sins  and  deficiencies.  His  confidence  was  not  in  his  own  excel- 
lence or  attainments,  but  in  Christ.  His  peace  did  not  ebb  and 
flow  with  the  tide  of  his  feelings,  but  was  abiding  as  his  faith.  He 
did  not  measure  his  Christian  life  by  his  experience,  but  by  its 
fruits.  He  trusted  in  Christ,  he  loved  Christ,  and  he  served  Christ; 
and  this  trust  was  the  fountain  of  his  peace,  and  this  service  was 
his  great  joy. 

Piety  does  not  always  show  itself  in  the  same  way;  but  the 
grace  of  God  will  always  reveal  itself.  It  can  neither  be  repressed 
or  hidden.  It  shone  in  the  life  of  our  departed  friend.  It  led  him 
to  the  life  of  service;  it  carried  him  through  years  of  toil,  sometimes 
under  deep  depression;  it  gave  him  true  and  tender  sympathy  with 
the  Lord's  tried  ones;  it  made  him  sensitive  and  generous  ;  it  sus- 
tained him  in  the  hours  of  anguish  ;  it  gave  him  peace  in  the  pros- 
pect of  his  departure ;  and  when  death  came  to  his  release  it  found 
him  sweetly  resting  in  the  arms  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

As  a  friend.  Dr.  Richardson  was  wise  and  generous  and  true. 
His  judgment  was  sound  and  clear.  He  entered  warmly  into  all 
the  difficulties  and  trials  through  which  his  friends  were  called  to 
pass.  It  was  this  which  made  him  such  a  sympathizing  pastor.  No 
one  who  came  to  him  failed  to  meet  with  a  full  response  ;  and  any 
tax  upon  his  feelings,  his  counsel,  or  his  aid,  was  cheerfully  borne. 
He  could  be  safely  trusted.  Confidence  reposed  in  him  was  in- 
violably sacred.  He  was  never  suspected  of  a  breach  of  faith. 
While  his  friendships  were  not  quickly  formed,  —  and  some  may 
have  thought  him  cold,  distant,  or  haughty,  —  yet  when  they  were 
formed,  when  you  had  found  your  way  through  what  may  have 
seemed  a  forbidding  exterior  to  the  large  and  generous  heart 
within,  his  friendships  would  bear  any  strain  laid  upon  them,  and 
were  never  interrupted  or  broken;  or  if  sundered  for  a  time,  they 
were  sure  to  be  reknit.  He  had  his  moods,  and  who  does  not  have ; 
he  was  sensitive  to  anything  like  neglect,  and  still  more  so  to  any- 
thing like  patronage;  but  after  the  lapse  of  forty-seven  years  since 
we  first  occupied  adjoining  seats  in  those  old  recitation  rooms  at 
Princeton  Seminary,  I  can  bear  witness  that  he  was  a  true  and 
generous  friend. 


This  is  not  the  time  or  the  place  to  speak  of  his  home  life. 
We  would  not  seek  to  enter  those  sacred  precincts  now  shadowed 
with  a  sorrow  which  time  only  can  relieve  But  his  home  life  was 
not  a  veiled  or  hidden  life.  Blessed  in  the  object  of  his  choice 
(one  who  knew  so  well  how  to  appreciate  his  worth,  and  who  ever 
ministered  so  wisely  and  tenderly  to  his  usefulness  and  comfort), 
his  home  life,  —  made  more  beautiful  both  by  the  sorrows  and  joys 
which  marked  its  progress,  — was  his  delight.  It  was  obvious  to 
all  that  its  interests  were  precious  to  him,  and  that  he  cheerfully 
sacrificed  personal  ease  and  pleasure  to  its  welfare. 

But  Dr.  Richardson's  life  revealed  itself  largely  in  his  chosen 
calling;  for  he  recognized  fully  that  the  work  to  which  he  had  con- 
secrated his  life  was  one  to  which  he  was  divinely  called.  It  was 
no  mere  profession  which  he  had  chosen  :  I  think  I  may  say  that 
he  would  not  have  remained  in  the  ministry  a  single  day  except  for 
this  conviction;  and  this  not  because  he  did  not  love  his  work,  but 
because  his  sense  of  the  responsibility  it  involved  was  so  vivid 
and  weighty.  He  was  often  oppressed  by  it,  and  found  relief  only 
as  he  fell  back  upon  the  call  of  God.  Other  avenues  of  life  were 
open  to  him,  in  which  his  peculiar  gifts  might  have  found  exercise, 
and  in  which  he  might  have  achieved  great  success  ;  but  the  call  of 
God  was  clear,  and  he  obeyed  it. 

In  this  calling  he  was  a  man  thoroughly  furnished  unto  every 
good  work.  He  had  rare  gifts.  He  was  quick  in  his  apprehen- 
sions, clear  and  comprehensive  in  his  views  of  truth,  and  decided 
in  his  convictions.  He  acquired  with  great  ease  and  rapidity,  and 
in  widely  different  lines  of  study.  He  was  a  good  linguist  and  a 
profound  theologian,  though  his  theological  attainments  did  not  lie 
so  strictly  in  any  systematic  form.  His  information  was  wide  and 
thorough,  and  he  had  a  marvellous  facility  of  expression.  I  think 
he  had  the  power  to  say  fully  and  completely  what  he  wished  to  say 
beyond  any  man  I  ever  knew.  He  was  apparently  never  at  a  loss 
for  a  single  word.  And  this  facility  of  expression  never  degener- 
ated into  mere  verbiage.  It  was  never  used  to  cover  the  absence 
of  thought.  You  always  felt,  whether  you  agreed  with  him  or  not 
(and  most  keenly  when  you  did  not  agree  with  him),  that  he  had 
something  to  say;  and  he  said  it  so  that  it  should  be  as  clear  as 
crystal :  you  were  never  left  in  doubt  what  that  something  was. 

He  was  eminent  in  the  pulpit.  All  his  peculiar  gifts  and  faculties 
were  called  into  service  here.  He  laid  them  all  under  tribute  freely. 
From  the  very  beginning  of  his  ministerial  Hfe,  even  when  a  stripling 
just  out  from  the  seminary  and  scarcely  yet  accustomed  to  the  armor 
he  must  wear,  and  in  the  great  moral  questions  involved  in  the 


82 


heated  debates  which  then  agitated  the  country  and  culminated  at 
last  in  the  Civil  War,  he  was  recognized  at  once  as  a  man  of  power. 
The  great  political  giants  who  were  then  discussing  these  moral 
questions  felt  that  this  lad  had  something  to  say,  and  that  he  knew 
how  to  say  it.  But  his  reputation  as  a  preacher  does  not  rest  upon 
special  sermons,  —  however  able  or  timely  or  impressive,  —  but 
upon  the  breadth  of  thought,  the  variety  of  themes  or  topics  which 
were  treated  in  his  ministry,  and  so  ably  treated. 

He  loved  the  doctrines  of  the  cross.  These  were  the  central 
themes  of  his  preaching ;  but  they  were  central,  not  exclusive. 
He  viewed  the  cross  as  illuminating  all  truth  and  all  duty.  Its 
light  fell  broad  and  clear  upon  all  that  touches  human  life  and 
welfare.  Interests,  duties,  graces,  hopes,  and  fears  were  to  him  as 
they  appeared  in  this  light.  He  set  forth  the  cross  of  Christ  not 
only  as  the  sole  and  exclusive  basis  of  a  sinner's  salvation,  —  which 
it  is  and  which  he  firmly  held  it  to  be,  — but  as  the  source  of  all 
Christian  virtues,  and  as  controlling  the  man  in  all  his  relations.  He 
brought  these  great  truths  to  bear  upon  the  man  in  his  spiritual 
life,  in  his  family  life,  as  he  moved  in  society,  and  as  a  member  of 
the  State.  The  whole  life  was  brought  within  the  domain  and 
authority  of  the  Christian  conscience.  The  piety  which  has  its 
source  in  the  cross,  and  draws  its  strength  from  the  cross,  must 
reach  out  to  the  whole  life.  The  cross  was  the  sun  in  his  preach, 
ing ;  it  gave  light  and  warmth  and  life  ;  but  the  planets  roll  round 
the  sun,  and  are  held  in  their  orbits  by  his  attractive  power.  His 
preaching  was  not  hortatory.  He  rehed  more  upon  the  force  of 
the  truth  clearly  presented  than  upon  any  appeal.  He  would  reach 
the  will  through  the  conscience,  rather  than  through  the  emotions. 
His  manner  was  animated  and  forcible.  It  was  his  own  manner, — 
as  every  man's  should  be,  with  the  condition  that  it  should  be  as 
effective  as  he  can  make  it. 

The  brilliancy  of  Dr.  Richardson's  jDulpit  dims  to  our  view  his 
walk  and  work  as  a  pastor;  when  the  sun  shines  in  his  strength 
the  stars  are  not  seen.  But  when  trials  came,  or  there  was  any 
deep  and  real  call  for  sympatliy,  counsel,  help,  there  was  no  one 
whose  heart  responded  more  generously  and  truly,  or  who  poured 
out  more  freely  the  wealth  of  his  own  love  and  sympathy.  There  are 
many  witnesses  here  who  can  attest  that  this  is  all  true.  There  is 
far  more  in  the  pastoral  work  than  lies  upon  the  surface.  It  is  a 
sacred  tie  which  binds  the  pastor  and  the  flock  together;  and  the 
confidences  and  the  sympathies  and  the  deeds  of  love  which  pass 
to  and  fro  are  not  things  to  be  blown  in  the  face  of  the  public.  If 
you  could  go  into  the  homes  darkened  by  sorrow,  into  which  he  has 
brought  the  light  of  the  Saviour's  presence  and  grace  ;  to  the  dis- 


couraged  who  have  been  cheered  by  the  words  of  hope  ;  to  the  per- 
plexed whom  he  has  counselled  ;  to  the  inquirer  whom  he  has  pointed 
to  Christ ;  to  the  needy  whose  wants  have  been  supplied  by  no  stinted 
hand,  —  you  would  have  a  testimony  which  would  reveal  this  prince 
of  preachers  in  the  form  of  a  wise  and  tender  and  faithful  pastor. 

In  his  ministerial  work  Dr.  Richardson  cherished  great  confi- 
dence in  the  agencies  which  God  has  ordained,  and  in  the  use  of 
the  ordinary  means  of  grace,  and  looked  for  the  results  of  his  min- 
istry both  as  a  preacher  and  pastor  in  the  steady  growth  of  the 
church  in  grace  and  numbers. 

This  occasion  brings  to  my  mind  a  recent  conversation  with  our 
departed  friend.  We  were  talking  of  these  words  of  our  Lord  : 
"  Whosoever  liveth,  and  believeth  in  me,  shall  never  die."  We 
agreed  that  we  must  take  the  words  in  the  fullest  sense,  as  teaching 
that  the  believer  shall  not  die  ;  that  he  is  no  longer  under  death ; 
death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  him.  To  limit  the  promise  to 
this,  —  that  the  believer  shall  not  die  forever,  —  though  he  may  die 
a  natural  death,  he  shall  be  delivered  from  eternal  death,  — would 
be  to  empty  the  words  of  a  large  part  of  their  meaning.  The 
Scriptures  surely  teach  that  physical  death  does  not  necessarily 
involve  moral  or  spiritual  death.  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live 
also."  "  Knowing  that  Christ,  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth 
no  more  ;  death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  Him."  The  be- 
liever, sharing  that  resurrection  and  deathless  life,  passes  now,  and 
in  the  very  act  of  believing,  from  under  death  forever.  It  is  impos- 
sible, therefore,  that  the  believer  should  die. 

And  even  the  transition  is  made  easy.  We  expect  that  a  life  of 
faith  and  toil  and  suffering  here  shall  be  crowned  at  the  end  with 
peace.  Days  and  weeks  of  anguish,  —  through  which  the  needful 
process  of  refinement  is  completed,  and  through  which  the  strong 
arm  of  the  Lord  gives  support  and  the  faith  of  the  believer 
triumphs,  —  fit  the  believer  for  his  departure.  So,  the  work  of 
suffering  finished,  our  departed  friend  came  to  his  rest.  With 
blessed  utterances  of  his  faith,  with  the  foreshadowing  of  that 
divine  peace  into  which  the  believer  enters  resting  upon  his  brow, 
with  hands  pressed  together  as  commending  himself  to  the  Lord, 
he  has  gone  from  us,  —  our  unbelief  says  "dead;  "  but  faith  says, 
"  with  the  Lord  forever." 

"  No,  no  ;  it  is  not  dying 
To  go  unto  our  God,  — 
This  gloomy  earth  forsaking, 
Our  journey  homeward  taking, 
Along  the  starry  road. 


84 

No,  no;  it  is  not  dying 
To  hear  this  gracious  word, 
'  Receive  a  Father's  blessing, 
Forevermore  possessing 
The  favor  of  thy  Lord.'  " 


Resolutions  of  the  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church, 
Trenton,  N.  J. 

Whereas  we,  the  Session  of  the  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church 
of  Trenton,  N.  J.,  have  learned  with  profound  sorrow  of  the  death 
of  Rev.  R.  H.  Richardson,  D.D.,  our  former  pastor,  therefore, 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  bear  testimony  to  the  fact  that  Dr. 
Richardson  ministered  for  nineteen  years  to  the  church  of  which 
we  are  the  presbyters,  with  great  faithfulness  and  distinguished 
ability.  As  a  preacher,  his  faith  and  courage  were  strong,  his  dic- 
tion elegant,  his  language  ornate,  and  his  sermons  marvels  of 
beauty,  clearness,  and  power.  He  was  a  grand  preacher  of  right- 
eousness ;  and  the  supreme  object  of  his  labors  among  us  was,  as 
God's  minister,  to  glorify  Him  by  extending  His  kingdom.  We 
loved  him,  too,  as  a  man  and  pastor  ;  for  in  him  we  found  sympathy 
when  we  needed  sympathy,  and  help  when  we  needed  help.  A 
good  man  has  gone ;  but  his  work  remains  to  bless  us  and  to 
attest  his  faithfulness  to  the  Master. 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  express  our  deep  sympathy  with  the 
sorrowing  family  of  our  late  pastor,  and  pray  that  the  God  of  all 
comfort  will  manifest  His  gracious  presence  unto  them  in  this  dark 
hour  of  their  affliction. 

Resolved,  That  a  copy  of  these  resolutions  be  entered  upon  our 
minutes,  and  that  a  copy  be  also  sent  to  the  afflicted  family. 

Wm.  D.  Sinclair, 

Clerk  of  Session  of  Fourth 
Presbyterian  Church,  Trenton,  N.J. 


Resolutions  of  the  Old  South  Church  at  Nevv'buryport. 

Whereas,  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  to  his  heavenly  rest  Rev. 
Richard  H.  Richardson,  D.  D.,  of  New  York,  N.Y. ; 

And  whereas  he  was  for  four  years  one  of  the  pastors  of  our 
beloved  church ;  the  Session  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Newburyport,  Mass.,  expressing  the  constant  and  unvarying  affec- 
tion and  respect  which  have  ever  characterized  its  memory  of  the 


85 


pastors,  living  and  dead,  who  have  ministered  to  them  in  spiritual 
things,  and  have  preached  the  Word  of  life  from  our  pulpit, 
hereby  Resolve  — 

(i)  That  this  Session  records  its  esteem  for  the  memory  of  the 
Rev.  R.  H.  Richardson,  D.  D.,  among  the  elder  members  of  this 
church,  as  an  able  preacher,  a  kind  friend,  and  an  attractive  man, 
to  a  circle  which  extended  beyond  the  bounds  of  our  parish. 

(2)  That  we  deeply  sympathize  with  his  widow  and  children  in 
this  trying  hour  of  their  afifliction,  and  commend  them  to  the  multi- 
tude of  the  tender  mercies  of  a  covenant-keeping  God,  and  pray 
that  the  Saviour,  whose  love  the  departed  so  ably  proclaimed,  may 
comfort  them  in  their  sorrow,  and  finally,  through  the  blessed 
Spirit,  bring  them  into  unending  association  with  the  glorified  dead. 

(3)  That  the  death  of  another  of  the  long  line  of  pastors  which 
have  broken  the  bread  of  life  to  our  people  reminds  us  of  our 
own  mortality,  and  that  our  dependence  is  not  in  an  arm  of  flesh, 
but  in  the  arm  of  the  Omnipotent  God,  who  is  able  to  carry  on  His 
work  ;  and  hence  our  duty  is  to  pray  to  Him  that,  as  one  by  one  of 
the  church  on  earth  is  called  away.  He  may  graciously  fill  their 
places  by  His  regnant  love  in  His  church  and  in  our  hearts. 

(4)  This  minute  to  be  entered  upon  the  records  of  Session,  read 
to  the  church  from  the  pulpit,  and  a  copy  be  sent  to  the  family  and 
the  press. 

By  order  of  Session. 

Brevard  D.  Sinclair,  Moderator, 

William  Binley,  Clerk. 
June  16,  1892. 

Tribute  of  the  Standard  Dictionary  Company. 

New  York,  June  23,  1892. 
To  THE  Bereaved  Family  of  our  late  Associate  and  Friend, 
Rev.  R.  H.  Richardson,  D.  D.  :  — 

In  your  loss,  which  is  ours  as  well,  we  have  no  adequate  words 
to  express  the  deep  sympathy  with  which  our  hearts  turn  to  you  in 
this  the  time  of  your  sore  bereavement.  Dr.  Richardson  came  to 
us  a  few  months  since,  a  total  stranger  to  most  of  us,  to  be  an  as- 
sociate and  co-laborer.  Quiet  in  deportment,  courteous  in  social 
intercourse,  dignified  in  bearing,  diligent  in  his  work,  his  keen 
intellect,  discriminating  logic,  finished  rhetoric,  fine  culture,  and 
varied  and  accurate  information  soon  made  him  seem  indispensable 
to  us  in  the  task  in  which  we  were  mutually  engaged  and  interested, 
and  at  the  same  time  commanded  our  sincere  admiration  ;  while 


86 


the  manifestations  of  high  character  and  genuine  warmth  of  na- 
ture won  the  affectionate  regard  of  all  those  who  came  into  more 
immediate  contact  with  him. 

In  our  mutual  loss,  —  which  we  feel  assured  is  his  inconceivable 
gain,  we  beg  the  privilege  of  bringing  our  wreath  of  friendship 
and  affection,  and  of  mingling  our  tears  with  yours  over  the  new- 
made  grave.  Thrice  within  the  past  few  months  we  have  been 
called  to  part  with  cherished  members  of  our  corps,  to  whom  we 
have  bidden  adieu  until  the  great  day  of  resurrection  and  reunion. 
With  each  added  parting  we  have  come  to  feel  more  deeply  than 
before  that  the  ties  which  were  at  first  those  of  co-laborers  have 
become  transformed  successively  into  ties,  first  of  fellowship,  then 
of  friendship,  and  finally  of  brotherhood.  In  the  spirit  of  Christian 
brotherhood  we  send  this  fraternal  greeting  of  sympathetic  affec- 
tion to  the  best  beloved  of  our  departed  brother.  It  is  our  earnest 
wish  and  prayer  that  He  who  is  the  Father  of  the  fatherless  and 
the  God  of  the  widow  may  abide  with  you  in  ever-increasing  ten- 
derness, fulness,  and  intimacy  ;  that  the  Spirit  of  all  grace  and 
consolation  may  minister  to  you  abundantly  out  of  his  inexhaust- 
ible supply  of  comfort  and  helpfulness  ;  and  that  the  blessed 
Jesus,  who  to  His  troubled  disciples  said,  "  My  peace  I  leave  with 
you,"  and  who  by  the  grave  of  buried  love  said,  "  I  am  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life,"  may  bring  you  so  to  walk  with  Him  by  faith, 
that,  "  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,"  you  may  daily  have  His 
divine  cheer  by  the  way,  and,  passing  with  quickened  footsteps  out 
of  the  valley  of  Baca  into  God's  highway  of  peace  and  blessing, 
at  the  end  of  that  way  may  find  glad  entrance  to  the  gates  of  the 
New  Jerusalem,  and  a  blessed  and  eternal  reunion  in  that  celestial 
city  whose  everlasting  light  and  joy  is  the  Lamb  of  God. 
In  love,  sorrow,  and  sympathy, 

I.  K.  Funk. 

I.  J.  Allen. 

Edward  J.  Hamilton. 

J.  W.  Palmer. 

Daniel  S.  Gregory. ^ 

From  the  New   York  Observer. 

The  Christian  church  has  sustained  another  loss  in  the  death 
of  Rev.  Dr.  Richard  H.  Richardson,  who,  after  several  months  of 

1  Committee  appointed  to  prepare  and  communicate  to  the  family 
of  Dr.  Richardson  an  expression  of  the  sorrow  and  sympathy  of  the 
Standard  Dictionary  Corps. 


87 


severest  suffering,  entered  into  his  rest,  Tuesday,  June  14,  1892,  at 
his  summer  home  at  Bayhead,  N.  J.  He  had  been  engaged  for 
some  time  in  most  trying  literary  labors  in  New  York  City,  which 
had  greatly  undermined  his  health,  but  anticipated  from  the  bracing 
air  of  the  New  Jersey  coast  an  early  renewal  of  his  accustomed 
strength  and  a  return  to  his  work;  but  God  had  ordered  otherwise, 
and  a  stricken  family  and  numerous  circles  of  friends  are  mourning 
his  departure  from  us.  He  enjoyed  a  succession  of  happy  pastor- 
ates, in  all  of  which  his  eminent  scholarship,  his  rare  command  of 
language,  his  clear  and  forcible  presentation  of  the  truth,  and  his 
method  of  winning  souls  for  Christ  and  building  them  up  in  the  faith, 
were  fully  appreciated.  While  ever  ready  to  listen  to  the  real 
heart  needs  of  all  those  who  approached  him,  and  minister  thereto, 
he  had  no  sympathy  with  means  or  measures  which  God  had  not 
commended  in  his  Word.  Probably  no  other  of  his  pastorates, 
extending  over  a  period  of  forty  years,  had  sucii  a  widespread 
influence,  and  was  more  fully  appreciated,  than  his  closing  one, 
connected  with  Trenton  Fourth  Church,  which  continued  nearly 
nineteeen  years.  Besides  a  large  and  appreciative  audience  from 
the  city  proper,  he  was  brought  in  contact  with  hundreds  of  young 
men  and  women  from  the  State  normal  and  model  schools  near 
his  church,  who  in  that  formative  period  of  their  lives  could  not 
but  be  impressed  by  his  reverence  for  God's  Word,  and  his  stores 
of  treasures  gathered  weekly  from  it,  and  those  prayers  to  which 
it  was  their  privilege  to  listen.  Few  men  were  so  gifted  in  prayer; 
few  so  sang  "  with  the  spirit  and  with  the  understanding  also,"  — 
for  hymn  and  tune  must  be  in  unison  to  satisfy  his  heart.  Brief 
funeral  services  were  held  by  loved  ones  at  his  home  at  Bayhead, 
and  his  body  was  taken  to  Newburyport,  Mass.,  to  rest  by  the  side 
of  his  children  buried  there,  till  the  Master's  coming. 


From  the  Mimttes  of  the  New  Brunswick  Presbytery. 

Richard  Higgins  Richardson,  D.D.,  was  born  at  Lexington, 
Ky.,  on  the  4th  of  September,  1823.  Born  in  a  Christian  home 
and  reared  under  Christian  nurture,  he  early  gave  his  heart  to 
Christ ;  and  after  a  full  course,  both  at  the  college  and  seminary  at 
Princeton,  N.J.,  he  was  ordained  to  the  gospel  ministry  by  the 
Presbytery  of  Peoria,  Illinois,  November  19,  1848.  He  was  pastor 
of  the  North  Presbyterian  Church.  Chicago;  at  St.  Peter's  Church, 
Rochester,  N.  Y.  ;  at  Marengo,  Illinois  ;  at  Red  Mills,  N.  Y.  ;  at 
First  Presbyterian  Church,  Newburyport,  Mass.,  and  at  the  Fourth 


88 


Presbyterian  Church,  Trenton, —  which  latter  church  he  served  witii 
great  acceptance  and  success  for  nearly  twenty  years,  and  until 
impaired  health  demanded  his  release.  After  a  wasting  and  pro- 
tracted sickness,  attended  with  great  suffering,  death  came  to  his 
release,  June  14,  1892.  He  received  his  degree  of  D.  D.  from  the 
College  of  New  Jersey  in  1865. 

Dr.  Richardson's  piety  was  deep,  sincere,  and  genuine.  He  was 
true  and  loyal  and  generous  as  a  friend.  He  was  charitable  in 
his  judgment  of  others,  but  exacting  in  his  judgment  of  himself. 
There  was  no  pretence  in  his  piety  or  in  his  friendships.  He  was 
richly  gifted.  His  acquisitions  were  large  and  varied  and  accurate 
and  were  made  with  great  apparent  ease  and  rapidity.  He  had  a 
marvellous  power  of  expression ;  he  saw  things  clearly,  and  was 
never  at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  fully  what  he  saw.  He  was 
eminent  in  the  pulpit,  both  for  his  clear  presentation  of  the  truth, 
and  for  the  variety  of  the  themes  he  treated.  He  loved  the  truths 
of  the  cross,  and  dwelt  upon  them ;  but  he  brought  those  truths  to 
bear  upon  his  hearers  in  all  their  relations  in  life,  —  in  their  spiritual, 
family,  social,  and  civil  life ;  hence  his  preaching  was  fresh,  un- 
hackneyed, and  timely.  "  The  cross  was  the  sun  in  his  preaching  ; 
it  gave  light  and  warmth  and  life  to  all  :  but  the  planets  roll  round 
the  sun,  and  are  held  in  their  orbits  by  his  attractive  power.  His 
preaching  was  not  hortatory.  He  relied  upon  the  truth  more  than 
upon  appeals,  and  sought  to  reach  the  will  through  the  conscience, 
rather  than  through  the  emotions." 

He  was  a  wise,  tender,  and  faithful  pastor.  He  walked  among 
his  people  as  their  friend  and  helper.  He  was  with  them  in  their 
sorrows  and  in  their  joys,  in  their  perplexities  and  fears,  —  walking 
with  them  under  the  cross,  and  bearing  their  cross  with  them  as 
God  gave  him  grace  and  strength.  Ur.  Richardson  relied  largely 
upon  the  use  of  the  stated  means  of  grace.  He  placed  his  confi- 
dence on  these  more  than  in  any  special  means  or  agencies,  and 
his  confidence  was  not  misplaced.  The  blessing  of  God  rested 
upon  his  ministry.  He  may  have  carried  his  views  to  an  extreme, 
but  experience  shows  that  they  were  essentially  correct.  After  a 
life  of  forty-four  years  in  the  ministry,  and  for  a  large  part  of  the 
time  working  cheerfully  under  pain  and  depression,  he  has  gone 
to  his  reward.  Seeking  strength  to  bear  meekly  and  patiently 
the  suffering  laid  upon  him,  with  blessed  utterances  of  his 
faith,  the  foreshadowing  of  that  divine  peace  into  which  the 
believer  enters  resting  upon  his  brow,  he  went  from  us,  and  is 
ever  with  the  Lord. 


89 


From  the  Synod  of  jYew  Jersey. 

The  Rev.  Richard  Higgins  Richardson,  D.  D.,  was  born  in 
Lexington,  Ky.,  September  4,  1823.  He  graduated  at  the  col- 
lege and  seminary  at  Princeton,  and  was  ordained  by  the  Presbytery 
of  Peoria  in  1848,  to  take  charge  of  a  new  enterprise  in  Chicago, 
called  the  North  Church  (now  the  Fourth).  After  seven  years  in 
that  field  he  was  pastor  of  St.  Peter's,  in  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  and  of 
Marengo,  Illinois.  In  i860  he  took  charge  of  the  church  in  Red 
Mills,  N.Y.,  whence  he  was  called  to  Newburyport,  Mass.,  in  1864, 
where  his  four  years'  pastorate  will  be  long  remembered,  and  where 
his  body  now  lies  beside  the  remains  of  two  lovely  children  who 
died  there.  In  1868  he  became  pastor  of  the  Fourth  Church  of 
Trenton,  N.  J.  This  relation  continued  for  nineteen  years,  and 
brought  him  into  contact,  not  only  with  a  highly  intelligent  con- 
gregation, but  also  with  many  of  the  teachers  and  pupils  of  the 
State  Normal  School  near  by,  to  whom  his  ministry  was  one  of 
profit  and  delight.  Resigning  on  account  of  ill  health,  he  was 
without  charge  until  his  death,  which  occurred  at  Bayhead,  June  14, 
1892, —  he  being  sixty-eight  years  old.  An  accurate  scholar,  of  pecu- 
liarly aesthetic  habit,  Dr.  Richardson  was  a  gifted  and  choice  ex- 
pounder of  God's  Word.  A  marked  sense  of  propriety  and  spirit 
of  reverence  pervaded  his  public  ministrations  and  impressed  the 
worshippers,  while  his  prayers,  graced  with  most  fitting  language, 
lifted  their  hearts  to  the  mercy  seat.  His  declining  days  were  spent 
in  literary  labor,  until,  within  sound  of  the  surging  billows  which 
ever  so  stirred  his  soul,  the  cable  parted,  and  his  spirit  was  wafted 
to  the  farther  shore.  A  beloved  wife,  Octavia,  the  daughter  of  the 
Rev.  Dr.  John  Woodbridge,  so  long  of  Hadley,  Mass.,  and  three 
children,  survive  him.  He  was  made  Doctor  of  Divinity  by  the 
College  of  New  Jersey  in   1865. 


LETTERS    OF   SYMPATHY. 


LETTERS    OF   SYMPATHY. 


Extracts  from  Letiers  of  Sympathy. 

From  C.  H.  R.,  New  Orkans,  La. 

IF  I  could  stretch  out  my  arms  over  the  great  distance  that  sepa- 
rates us,  and  take  you  to  my  heart  in  this  hour  of  deep  sorrow, 
I  would  not  have  to  give  words  to  the  tender  sympathy  I  feel  for 
you  and  the  dear  children  now  so  bereaved.  This  is  a  grief  in 
which  I  am  such  a  sharer  that  I  feel  as  though  I  ought  to  be  with 
you  ;  and  my  first  impulse  was  to  go  at  once.  ...  I  suppose  the 
dear  form  will  be  put  by  the  children  he  loved  and  mourned  so 
long.  I  try  to  think  of  the  joy  it  has  been  to  him  to  be  welcomed 
by  them  to  the  home  that  has  been  theirs  so  many  years.  But,  oh, 
I  did  so  want  to  see  him  again  !  I  wanted  to  tell  him,  —  I  wanted  to 
talk  with  him  of  our  dear  brother  who  has  gone  just  before,  —  to  tell 
him  of  how  often  he  spoke  of  him  with  sympathy  and  affection. 
They  were  not  long  divided,  and  I  hope  are  now  holding  sweet 
communion  in  a  better  land. 

Oh,  what  a  vision  is  before  me  now  of  that  little  cottage  at 
Bayhead,  with  its  mourning  household  !  but  one  calm  form  and 
peaceful  face,  —  that  of  the  dear  servant  of  God  who  has  passed 
beyond  the  veil  and  is  at  rest! 

From  M.  R.  B.,  Louisville,  Ky. 

I  have  been  trying  to  recall  incidents  of .  Richard's  childhood 
to  tell  you.  I  only  know  as  a  whole  how  perfectly  noble  and  true 
he  was,  and  generous  in  every  way.  He  would  never  "  tell  "  of  any 
one,  at  home  or  at  school;  and  I  have  known  of  his  accepting  un- 
deserved punishment  because  he  would  not.  He  had  a  wonderfully 
bright  mind,  and  Colonel  Dunham,  —  to  whose  school  we  went  to- 
gether, —  determined  he  should  know  something  of  three  languages 
at  seven  years  of  age ;  he  had  been  reading  English  for  some  time 


94 


before,  and  he  learned  Latin  so  readily  that  he  gave  him  lessons 
in  Greek,  and  brought  him  forward  so  rapidly  that  he  claimed  for 
him  the  reading  of  three  languages  at  an  age  when  children  now 
(and  wisely  too)  are  only  beginning  the  alphabet  of  their  native 
tongue.  I  was  very  proud  of  him,  and  loved  him  above  every 
one  ;   for  he  was  ever  my  champion  and  defender. 

From  /lis  Sister,  just  before  his  Death. 

Just  having  lost  one  beloved  brother,  I  cannot  bear  the  idea  of 
another  following  so  soon.  It  cannot  in  the  nature  of  things  be 
long  before  "one  home  shall  take  us  all  in;"  but  how  we  cling  to 
the  earthly  tabernacle,  and  try  to  keep  it  out  of  heaven.^ 

From  M.  R.  B.,  Loiiisville,  Ky. 

Give  Richard  my  warmest  love  and  loving  remembrance.  How 
the  years  of  my  childhood,  when  we  went  to  school  together,  come 
up  before  me!  He  was  so  loyal,  and  so  unselfish  and  noble,  even 
as  a  little  boy  ;  and  I  was  so  proud  of  his  wonderful  quickness  and 
mental  prowess  ! 

From  C.  H.  R.,  Louisville,  Ky. 

I  hope  that  your  summer  by  the  sea  will  bring  its  usual  in- 
vigoration,  notwithstanding  the  sad  experience  that  will  ever  be 
associated  with  it.  To  me  it  seems  all  so  unreal;  and  I  know 
I  shall  never  feel  that  the  dear  brother  who  always  welcomed  me 
with  such  loving  warmth  to  j'our  home,  wherever  it  was,  has  gone 
from  us,  until  I  come  to  be  with  you,  and  miss  him  from  his  accus- 
tomed place.  Oh,  how  plainly  I  can  see  him,  even  now !  how  many 
pleasant  thoughts  come  back  as  I  see  him  sitting  on  the  little 
porch  by  the  lake,  or  as  we  go  on  one  of  our  strolls  into  the  woods, 
where  he  had  always  so  much  to  talk  of!  His  was  a  noble  nature, 
truly ;  and  what  faults  he  may  have  had  were  mainly  the  outcome 
of  a  too  generous  and  loving  heart. 

FrojH  A.  S.,  N'c'w   York. 

Your  beloved  husband  was  one  of  my  most  valued  and  the 
dearest  of  my  seminary  friends.  You  cannot  conceive  the  shock 
it  gave  me  to  learn  of  his  decease.     I  loved  him   as  a  brother  ;  we 

1  As  this  book  goes  to  press,  the  word  comes  of  the  death  of  the  oldest 
member  of  the  family,  —  Mr.  William  Allen  Richardson,  of  Louisville,  Ky. 
This  makes  three  deaths  in  the  family  circle  in  less  than  six  months. 


95 


spent  many  profitable  and  happy  hours  together.  In  the  seminary 
I  regarded  him  as  one  of  the  first  of  his  class  in  mental  and  spirit- 
ual endowments.  His  generous  heart,  his  gentlemanly  conduct  and 
noble  impulses,  endeared  him  to  all  who  knew  him.  I  have  felt  a 
strong  attachment  for  Dr.  Richardson  ever  since  I  first  knew  him  ; 
he  was  to  me  a  firm  friend,  a  brother  beloved. 

When  my  dear  wife  and  daughter  were  taken  from  me  a  little 
over  a  year  ago,  Dr.  Richardson  wrote  me  a  letter  of  tenderest 
sympathy.  Little  did  I  think  that  he  himself  would  so  soon  follow 
my  loved  ones  to  the  better  land,  —  to  the  heavenly  home. 

Front  F.  H.   C,   Trenton,  N.  J. 

My  admiration  for  Dr.  Richardson  was  so  great,  and  my  rever- 
ence so  deep,  that  I  think  I  might  tell  you  how  I  share  with  you 
all  your  loss.  I  was  proud  to  know  such  a  scholar,  and  still 
prouder  to  regard  him  as  my  friend.  I  know  of  no  one  whom 
I  esteemed  so  highly  for  his  splendid  intellect  or  sterling  qualities 
as  a  man.  It  was  with  the  deepest  regret  that  I  heard  the  sad 
news,  and  a  regret  which  I  am  sure  is  shared  by  all ;  for  all  who 
knew  him  must  have  loved  him. 


Front  A.  B.,   Trenfon. 

Our  thoughts  are  with  you  and  yours  almost  constantly  for  the 
last  three  days,  and  our  hearts  are  full  of  sorrow  because  we  shall 
see  that  dear  face  no  more. 

We  are  very  sorry  that  we  could  not  come  to  Bayhead;  for  it 
would  have  been  such  a  comfort  to  us  to  have  seen  that  dear  form 
and  look  on  that  magnificent  brow  once  more.  What  sweet  and 
precious  memories  we  have  of  his  call  on  us  last  summer,  and  those 
two  Sundays  in  our  pulpit!  What  sermons  they  were  !  .  .  .  Mother 
has  a  letter  he  wrote  her  while  you  were  at  Tarry  town,  and  I  as- 
sure you  it  is  one  of  her  greatest  treasures  to-day.  .  .  . 

As  I  write,  how  many,  many  pleasant  memories  come  up!  —  so 
many  things  I  should  like  to  talk  with  you  of,  —  his  favorite  hymns, 
—  fragments  of  his  sermons.  How  clearly  I  can  recall  the  reading 
of  those  hymns,  —  his  tone  and  expression  !  oh,  no  one  ever  read 
them  as  Dr.  Richardson  did  !  But  his  work  is  done;  that  dear  form 
is  at  rest,  all  pain  and  anguish  over  ;  he  has  gone  to  the  darlings 
passed  on  before,  and  just  waits  on  the  other  side  for  those  left 
behind. 


96 


Frovt  C.    W.  S.,  A'ewport.  R.  I. 

Only  last  evening  I  received  the  tidings  of  this  great  sorrow. 
As  yet  I  know  no  particulars ;  but  I  must  write  at  once,  at  least  a 
word  of  sympathy,  —  and  of  grief,  for  the  earliest  and  dearest  friend- 
ship of  my  life  is  severed  by  the  blow  which  makes  me  a  sharer  in 
your  bereavement. 

We  left  home  together  for  college  ;  and  from  that  day  until  this 
our  affection  has  known  no  break  or  shadow.  I  think  I  never 
spoke  a  harsh  word  to  him  in  my  life  ;  I  am  certain  he  never 
spoke  one  to  me,  though  his  advice  was  often  needed  to  save  me 
from  mistake  and  failure.  I  used  to  go  into  his  room  when  a  shy 
homesick  boy,  to  have  him  comfort  me  and  help  me  in  my  studies. 
Being  a  little  older,  with  more  knowledge  of  the  world  and  better 
judgment,  he  influenced  and  moulded  me  for  a  long  time  as  no 
other  friend  that  I  ever  have  had.  Though  our  paths  in  life  sepa- 
rated afterwards,  we  were  never  divided  at  heart. 

I  do  not  selfishly  forget  your  greater  sorrow  in  my  own.  I  know 
that  I  could  say  nothing  better  than  those  words  of  divine  consola- 
tion which  so  often  you  have  heard  hi:n  offer  to  the  stricken  heart 
in  the  hour  of  bereavement ;  nor  do  you  need  any  praises  of  the 
dead,  the  beloved  dead,  to  soothe  your  grief.  I  can  only  pray 
God  to  continue  to  you  your  faith  and  courage  under  this  heavy 
trial. 

From  G.  S.    IV.,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

I  have  rarely  known  a  husband  and  a  father  so  bound  up  in 
those  he  most  loved  as  was  he ;  and  when  I  think  of  what  life  would 
have  been  to  him  without  you,  I  trust  you  will  not  think  me  cruel  in 
the  feeling  that  it  was  well  for  him  to  be  first  taken. 

Do  you  appreciate  what  it  is  to  have  been  so  near  to  two  such 
ornaments  of  the  noblest  professions  as  were  your  husband  and 
his  brother  ? 

From  B.  A.  R.,  N'ew   York. 

I  always  enjoyed  his  repartee,  life,  and  strong  words  of  help- 
fulness. For  his  sake  I  am  glad  he  was  the  first  to  go  ;  he  said 
he  could  not  outlive  you,  and  hoped  to  be  put  in  the  same  grave  if 
he  did. 

Frotn  L.  A.,  A^eiv   York. 

I  wish  I  might  have  heard  Dr.  Richardson  preach  again.  It  is 
a  lovely  memory  I  have  of  the  Sabbath  morning  in  1887,  — looking 


97 


on  the  ocean  after  a  storm,  —  in  the  old  Pavihon,  listening  to  his 
sermon,  of  which  the  subject  was  Christ  in  the  boat  with  His 
disciples.  Now  for  the  preacher  of  that  morning  the  storms  of 
this  life  have  all  passed.     How  blessed  ! 

May  the  peace  of  God  be  in  all  your  hearts  ! 

Fr-om  A.  M.  H.,   Trenton,  N.J. 

We  know  that  "  He  who  hath  kept,  will  keep,"  even  to  the  very 
end,  bringing  us  at  His  own  appointed  time,  in  His  own  appointed 
way,  "  unto  the  desired  haven,"  where  our  beloved  ones  now  rest, 
secure  from  all  life's  storms  and  perils. 

"  God  doth  His  own  in  safety  keep, 
He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep," 

was  sung  so  sweetly  the  evening  of  the  solemn  memorial  service  ! 
Many  tears  of  tender,  loving  remembrance  were  shed  there.  The 
church  was  well  filled  with  those  who  loved  and  honored  our 
dearest  pastor.  .  .  . 

I  think  of  you  all  so  much,  dear  friend,  and  of  the  one  who  has 
gone ;  I  feel  that  heaven  is  pleasanter  for  father  and  mother  since 
he  went  thither.  How  their  faces  lighted  with  joy  always  when  he 
came  into  our  earthly  home  !  How  lovely  they  will  all  be  when  we 
meet  them  again  in  a  little  while  ! 

Fro?n  F.  B.    IV.,   Trenton,  N.J. 

I  cannot  but  think  of  the  throng  of  friends  who  would  welcome 
dear  Dr.  Richardson, —the  children  he  mourned  so  long,  and  the 
many  to  whom  he  was  such  a  kind,  faithful  pastor.  No  one  can 
take  his  place  with  me,  —  a  lifelong  friend,  so  sympathetic  in  joy  or 
sorrow  !  His  tender  kindness  when  my  mother  died  I  can  never 
forget ;  and  I  feel  truly  that,  after  her,  I  owe  more  of  my  training  in 
spiritual  things  to  Dr.  Richardson  than  to  any  one  else.  His  voice 
and  look  are  indelibly  associated  with  many  a  Scripture  passage 
and  hymn  that  he  read  with  such  wonderful  emphasis. 

From  a  Member  oj  the  Old  South  Church  in  Newbitryport. 

We  hold  your  husband  in  most  grateful  and  affectionate  remem- 
brance for  what  he  was  to  us  as  pastor  and  friend  during  all  those 
anxious  years  when  his  interest  and  sympathy  were  unfailing ;  and 
we  can  never  forget  how  he  came  to  us  through  the  heavy  March 

13 


98 


storm,  —on  the  evening  when  we  felt  ourselves  left  alone,  —  how 
truly  he  felt  with  and  for  us,  and  how  ready  he  was  with  words  of 
help  and  comfort. 

Nor  can  any  who  heard  them  ever  lose  the  memory  of  his 
eloquent  words  in  the  pulpit  ;  his  wonderful  mastery  of  expression, 
which  clothed  the  truths  he  uttered  in  such  forcible,  sanctified, 
always  fitting  language  ;  the  clearness  with  which  he  expounded 
the  doctrines  of  our  faith  ;  and  the  deep  and  abiding  loyalty  which 
made  us  realize  that  he  was  a  messenger  from  the  King.  That 
impassioned  eloquence  which  drew  so  many  into  the  dear  Old 
South  Church,  —  till  scarcely  a  si  ngle  sitting  was  left  unoccupied, — 
was  only  equalled  by  the  tenderness  and  sincerity  which  kept  the 
hearts  of  his  people  in  close  allegiance  to  their  minister,  drawing  him 
nearer  and  nearer,  till,  when  the  day  of  parting  came,  "the  three- 
fold cord"  could  not  be  broken  without  intense  pain  for  both  pastor 
and  people.  And  now  that  he  rests  from  his  labors,  it  comforts  us 
to  think  that  he  is  sleeping  by  the  side  of  the  dear  children  whose 
resting-place  he  commended  to  our  care  on  that  day  when  he  bade 
us  and  his  work  "good-by."  I  have  often  recalled  those  touching 
words,  "  When  any  of  you  shall  lay  a  flower  on  those  little  graves, 
my  heart  will  feel  it,  wherever  I  may  be."  ...  I  have  frequently 
wished  that  I  might  read  Dr.  Richardson's  sermon  upon  the  death 
of  Lincoln.  I  am  sure  that  of  the  many  called  forth  by  that  occa- 
sion, none  were  more  powerful,  more  touching,  more  truly  brilliant, 
—  if  I  may  use  that  word  in  connection  with  such  a  theme. 

From  O.  S.  F.,   Trenton,  N.  J. 

I  doubt  whether  any  pulpit  holds  a  man  of  as  large  intellectual 
power,  combined  with  as  modest  an  appreciation  of  himself.  .  .  . 
Within  the  second  year  of  his  pastorate  I  was  struck  with  the 
originality  and  force  of  his  ideas ;  and  this  increased  to  the  close  of 
his  work  here.  At  first,  and  for  some  years  perhaps,  he  dwelt 
much  upon  the  dark  and  depressing  mysteries,  and  tried  to  make 
them  clear  ;  but  he  gradually  abandoned  that,  and  preached  more 
practically  and  with  an  equal  amount  of  acute,  deep,  and  striking 
thought,  and  living,  quickening  power.  ...  I  shall  ever  remember 
the  evening  of  his  last  day  as  pastor;  the  sermon  had  been  deeply 
interesting  and  eminently  practical :  he  had  offered  his  last  prayer 
and  pronounced  the  benediction,  and  we  were  leaving;  I  looked 
back  and  he  was  watching  us,  leaning  on  the  Bible-rest  on  folded 
arms;  I  looked  as  long  as  my  lingering  steps  permitted,  and  left 
him  still  watching. 


SERMONS 


DR.  RICHARD   H.   RICHARDSON. 


I.    Family  Worship. 

Newburyport,  Mass.,  July  8,  1865. 

II.    By  Way  of  the  Sea. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  August  29,  1879. 

III.    Till  He  Come. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  September  5,  1879. 


SERMONS 

BY 

DR.   RICHARD    H.   RICHARDSON. 


FAMILY   WORSHIP. 

:nin'-nx  iai'J  'noi  'PJXI  —  Joshua  xxiv.  15. 

THIS  is  Joshua's  declaration  of  his  determined  loyalty  to 
God,  however  faithless  and  forgetful  others  might  be. 
That  loyalty  he  would  keep,  though  all  the  nation  should  go 
astray.  But  it  is  a  declaration  not  for  himself  alone,  but  for  his 
household,  asserting  his  purpose  by  precept,  example,  and  au- 
thority, to  guide  them  in  the  paths  of  a  true  and  loving  obedi- 
ence to  the  living  and  true  God.  So  would  he  prove  himself  a 
worthy  descendant  of  the  father  of  the  faithful,  whose  high  praise 
God  himself  had  spoken  when  he  said  concerning  him,  "  For  I 
know  him,  that  he  will  command  his  children  and  his  household 
after  him,  and  they  shall  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord."  So  every- 
where throughout  the  Scriptures  it  is  asserted  or  assumed  that 
when  God  makes  a  family  like  a  flock,  that  family  also  like  a 
flock  shall  have  a  shepherd,  whose  pleasure  and  whose  duty  it 
should  be  to  guide,  to  govern,  and  to  defend  them  ;  to  lead  them 
into  green  pastures  and  beside  still  waters ;  to  order  all  their 
ways  aright,  —  himself  to  go  before  them  to  the  places  in  which 
they  may  find  peace  and  safety.  This  family,  therefore,  is  not  a 
mere  collection  of  individuals,  but  an  organized  society,  —  its 
members  bound  together  by  their  relation  to  a  common  head. 
To  that  headship  God  has  delegated  a  divine  authority,  and  so 


I02 


has  attached  to  it  an  almost  infinite  obligation  ;  while  at  the  same 
time  He  has  infused  into  it  his  own  fatherly  patience,  tender- 
ness, and  love,  by  uniting  with  it,  in  ordinary  cases,  the  parental 
bond.  The  head  of  every  family,  therefore,  occupies  the  posi- 
tion of  a  double  representative  of  God  to  the  family,  and  of  the 
family  to  God  ;  and  so  it  is  impossible  to  overstate  the  sacred- 
ness  and  the  responsibility  which  belong  to  his  office.  He 
cannot,  then,  acquit  himself  of  his  solemn  duties  to  either  with- 
out fidelity  to  both.  He  must  carry  up  his  household  to  dwell 
with  God ;  he  must  bring  God  down  to  dwell  amid  his  house- 
hold. And  how  shall  he  do  this  but  by  the  constant  recogni- 
tion of  God  in  the  daily  domestic  life?  and  how  shall  this 
recognition  be  made  without,  or  made  so  well  as  by,  the  daily 
gatherings  around  the  altar  of  domestic  worship  ?  It  needs  no 
argument,  therefore,  to  establish  the  duty  of  family  worship. 
It  is  a  constitutional  obligation,  and  carries  its  own  proof  with 
it  in  the  very  nature  of  the  family  organization.  A  prayerless 
household,  then,  is  a  disorganized  household  ;  and  whatever  else 
there  may  be  or  may  not  be  in  it,  it  lacks  the  one  grand  element 
of  order,  harmony,  and  security.  It  lacks  the  offices  of  a  priest, 
to  offer  up  its  daily  sacrifice  to  God,  and  to  call  down  divine 
benedictions  upon  it;  and  so  it  is  disordered  in  its  very  highest 
relation,  dissevered  from  the  vital  sources  of  all  peace  and  bless- 
edness. It  is  a  duty,  therefore,  the  neglect  of  which  entails  a 
special,  immediate,  and  constant  forfeiture,  extending  through 
the  whole  circle  of  our  dearest  interests,  and  multiplying  itself 
in  its  ever-expanding  influence  upon  the  conduct  and  experi- 
ence of  coming  generations.  It  is  the  sin  of  a  representative  ; 
and  so  its  consequences  are  not  individual  and  temporary,  but 
social  and  permanent  and  self- reproductive.  It  is  a  disregard 
of  a  covenant  obligation,  and  so  carries  with  it  hereditary  evils, 
according  to  the  word  of  God  Himself,  who  declares  that  He 
will  visit  the  iniquity  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children,  unto  the 
third  and  fourth  generation  of  them  that  hate  Him  ;  while  on 
the  other  hand  we  are  assured  that  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from 


I03 


everlasting  to  everlasting  upon  them  that  fear  Him,  and  His 
righteousness  to  children's  children,  to  such  as  keep  His  cove- 
nant, and  to  those  that  remember  His  commandments  to  do 
them. 

But  even  if  there  were  no  such  federal  relationship  as  this, 
the  consequence  would  be  scarcely  less  certain  upon  natural 
principles.  As  we  grow  up  and  assume  the  responsibilities  of 
men  and  women  in  the  world,  and  establish  homes  of  our  own, 
we  know  how  instinctively  and  almost  unconsciously  we  frame 
our  family  arrangements  upon  the  model  which  was  constantly 
before  us  in  our  earlier  years.  That  model  has  so  impressed 
itself  upon  us  that  we  fall  almost  as  naturally  into  its  imitation  as 
we  inherit  our  resemblance  to  those  who  gave  us  birth.  The 
sunny  days  of  childhood  come  back  to  us  across  the  lapse  of 
years  ;  its  hallowed,  peaceful  scenes  renew  themselves  before  us  ; 
we  live  over  in  our  memories  the  routine  of  its  daily  life  ;  and 
as  all  this  comes  up  to  us,  softened  and  sanctified  by  the  tender 
associations  of  filial  love,  the  recollections  of  the  life,  the  word, 
the  example  of  those  who  called  us  children,  and  on  whom  we 
looked  as  the  types  of  all  that  is  perfect  in  the  world,  —  all  this 
combines,  I  say,  to  form  in  our  minds  the  ideal  of  the  home, 
which  must  of  course  be  realized  in  that  new  home  which  we 
are  making  for  ourselves.  And  so  it  comes  to  pass  that  family 
customs  are  perpetuated  and  parental  examples  repeated  from 
generation  to  generation,  and  the  households  of  to-day  are  in 
many  of  their  essential  features  the  pictures  of  the  households 
of  a  hundred  years  ago.  So  great  is  the  force  of  early  impres- 
sions that  they  almost  assert  themselves  with  the  authority  of 
a  law  ;  and  we  feel  at  first  as  though  we  had  been  guilty  of  filial 
ingratitude  and  sin  if  we  depart  from  its  requirements.  Even 
in  little  things  this  influence  is  all  powerful :  we  wish  to  see 
upon  our  tables  the  very  dishes  which  tempted  our  youthful 
appetite ;  and  often,  as  we  sit  down  to  eat,  we  are  reminded  of 
some  lost  relish  of  our  childhood,  and  feel  that  nothing  can  ever 
taste  so  sweet  again  as  that  which  a  mother's  hand  once  pre- 


I04 


pared,  and  on  which  a  father's  voice  once  invoked  a  blessing. 
How  much  more  powerful,  then,  the  recollections  of  more  im- 
portant things,  especially  of  those  solemn  acts  and  scenes  which 
took  hold  upon  the  heart  and  conscience,  and  spoke  to  us  — 
and  speak  to  us  still  —  of  God  and  our  responsibilities  to  Him, 
and  of  our  souls'  great  interest  in  Christ  and  His  salvation,  with 
its  issues  of  eternal  life  or  death.  I  am  sure  that  I  speak  for 
many  of  you,  as  well  as  for  myself,  when  I  say  that,  among  all  the 
recollections  of  my  early  life,  none  come  back  to  me  with  more 
of  mingled  tenderness  and  force  than  those  of  the  morning  and 
evening  assemblings  for  worship  around  the  table  when  the 
bodily  hunger  had  been  satisfied,  and  the  food  upon  which 
was  thus  sanctified  by  the  Word  of  God  and  by  prayer.  I  can 
recall  the  very  attitude  of  every  member  of  the  household,  and 
the  look  upon  their  faces,  —  especially  the  grave  and  reverend 
aspect  of  him  who  took  the  Holy  Bible  from  its  place  and  read 
to  us  from  its  sacred  pages,  and  of  her  who  sat  opposite  to  him, 
and  on  whose  countenance  we  could  read  the  expression  of  a 
kindly  pride  in  her  children,  not  without  some  marks  of  maternal 
anxiety  and  care  for  them.  No  music  has  ever  sounded  sweeter 
to  my  ear  than  when  our  voices  joined  in  singing  some  hymn  of 
praise  and  prayer,  the  meaning  of  which  we  were,  some  of  us, 
too  young  to  fully  understand,  but  of  which  we  aU  felt  the  power, 
—  sometimes,  "  Come,  Holy  Spirit,  Heavenly  Dove,"  and  some- 
times, "While  Thee  I  seek,  Protecting  Power,"  or  "  Come,  thou 
Fount  of  every  Blessing ;  "  or  further  on  in  life,  when  years  and 
care  and  toil  had  thinned  and  whitened  the  hair  of  him  whom 
we  all  loved  and  honored  so  much,  and  a  fuller  experience  of 
life,  with  many  a  disappointment  and  sorrow,  was  ripening  for 
the  better  life  to  come,  —  when  one  by  one  the  bright  faces  dis- 
appeared from  around  the  table  and  the  voices  joining  in  the 
song  grew  fewer  (some  of  them  gone  out  to  sing  around  other 
altars,  but  more  of  them  among  the  angels  and  the  thousands 
of  other  children  around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven),  —  then, 
as  his  days  drew  nearer  to  their  close  and  his  hopes  and  wishes 


I05 


took  a  stronger  hold  upon  the  future,  the  hymns  selected  became 
changed  in  their  character,  and  we  sang  together,  "  Oh  for  a 
Closer  Walk  with  God  !  "  and  ''  'Tis  Sweet  to  say  Thy  Will  be 
Done,"  and  oftener  than  all,  that  one  which  he  loved  the 
most,  — 

"Give  me  the  wings  of  faith  to  rise 
Within  the  veil  and  see 
The  saints  above,  howf  bright  their  joys, 
How  great  their  glories  be." 

And  I  can  hear  as  plainly  now  as  then  the  earnest  and  pathetic 
tones  of  his  prayer  when  the  song  was  ended  and  we  had  all 
knelt  down  in  our  places,  and  can  repeat  the  very  words  of  his 
adoration  and  his  petition  when  he  prayed  for  his  children  and 
his  neighbors  and  for  all  who  were  afflicted,  and  always  for  the 
world  which  lieth  in  wickedness,  and  for  the  full  triumphs  of 
the  cross  and  kingdom  of  Emmanuel.  All  this  is  now  a  thing 
of  the  past.  That  oft-repeated  wish  has  been  more  than  grati- 
fied ;  and  within  the  veil,  with  the  wife  of  his  youth  gone  thither 
before  him,  he  knows  how  great  their  joys,  how  bright  their 
glories  be.  That  childhood  home  is  occupied  by  strangers  ;  and 
those  of  us  who  dwelt  there,  and  remain  until  the  present,  have 
other  homes,  from  which  our  own  children  have  gone  up  to 
heaven,  as  his  went  once  ;  but  that  family  altar  remains  fixed 
among  our  most  sacred  and  precious  associations,  built  in  our 
very  hearts,  —  and  though  there  were  no  other  influence  or  prin- 
ciple to  govern  ine,  I  should  feel  that  I  had  done  dishonor  to 
the  memory  of  my  beloved  father  and  mother  if  I  failed 
to  recognize  my  father's  and  my  mother's  God  morning  and 
evening  in  my  family.  Happy  is  the  man  around  whose  child- 
hood cluster  recollections  such  as  these  !  He  has  received  a 
richer  legacy  than  lands  or  gold,  —  richer  in  its  own  intrinsic 
worth,  and  infinitely  more  enduring  and  beneficent  in  its  results  ; 
and  therefore,  for  the  sake  of  these  results,  —  this  power  which 
it  has  to  mould  and  govern  the  domestic  life  of  coming  genera- 
tions, to  preserve  and  to  perpetuate  the  worship  of  God  in  the 


io6 


future,  —  let  us  never  permit  the  fire  of  devotion  to  be  extin- 
guished on  our  hearthstones. 

And  now  is  there  not  something  in  this  service  itself  so  be- 
coming and  so  beautiful  that  it  pleads  for  its  own  observance 
in  every  household  ?  Is  it  not  in  the  family  that  almost  all  the 
hopes  and  happiness  of  life  centre  ?  Whence  comes  the  magic 
influence  of  the  word  "  home,"  —  an  influence  so  great  that  the 
very  sound  of  it  and  the  very  thought  of  it  will  quicken  the 
pulse  and  thrill  the  nerves  as  though  some  new  spirit  had  taken 
possession  of  the  frame?  Why  do  we  turn  so  longingly  and 
lovingly  to  this  one  spot,  as  though  there  were  no  other  in  the 
world  in  which  we  could  be  at  rest?  What  hastens  the  step  and 
brightens  the  countenance  as  you  draw  near  one  dwelling  only 
of  the  thousands  which  you  enter?  It  is  because  there  is  home  ; 
and  that  one  word  expresses  all.  It  is  because  there  the  heart 
abides,  and  there  the  heart  finds  its  noblest,  fullest,  happiest  ex- 
ercises ;  all  that  is  touching,  tender,  and  true  —  all  that  gives  ani- 
mation, impulse,  charm  to  life  —  is  there.  It  is  a  sacred  spot ; 
there  is  a  sanctity  in  its  associations,  in  the  love  which  has 
lived  and  grown  there,  in  the  fellowship  enjoyed  there,  in  the 
long  and  intimate  communion  of  its  cares  and  sorrows  as  well  as 
of  its  joys,  in  all  that  makes  up  the  home  life.  I  say  there  is 
even  a  sacredness  in  it  all  which  would  make  you  guard  your 
dwelling  against  any  profane  intrusion,  as  you  would  protect  the 
very  house  of  God  against  any  desecration.  It  is  in  a  certain 
sense  a  temple  ;  and  in  this  temple  shall  there  be  no  altar  raised, 
no  worship  paid?  Why,  even  the  old  Roman  heathen,  whose 
homes  had  almost  nothing  about  them  of  what  belongs  to  ours, 
—  even  they  would  have  thought  themselves  guilty  of  a  sin 
against  their  gods  and  their  ancestry  if  the  altars  and  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Lares  and  Penates  were  absent  from  their  dwellings. 
These  household  gods  were  an  essential  institution  of  the  family, 
and  the  services  rendered  them  in  the  daily  household  life  as 
binding,  and  in  some  respects  more  important,  than  that  which 
was  paid  in  the  public  temples  to  the  higher  gods  of  the  nation. 


I07 


And  shall  we,  who  know  the  living  and  true  God,  and  who  owe 
to  His  grace  and  revelation  all  that  is  attractive  in  domestic  life 
and  all  that  consecrates  it  in  our  affections  and  regard,  —  shall  we 
build  no  home  altars  and  offer  no  home  worship  ?  Is  it  not  the 
plainest  call  of  reverence  and  gratitude  ?  and  would  you  not  blush 
to  refuse  such  a  call  if  it  came  to  you  from  any  fellow-creature  ? 
It  is  of  all  things,  therefore,  in  itself  the  most  appropriate,  and 
nothing  can  be  more  pleasing  in  the  eye  of  God,  —  more  beau- 
tiful in  its  own  intrinsic  beauty,  —  than  when  in  the  early  morn- 
ing or  the  evening  twilight  a  united  house  presents  its  vows  and 
offerings  to  the  Lord.  It  is  a  scene  so  impressive  even  to  a 
casual  beholder  that  its  influence  will  hang  around  him  for  many 
days.  You  have  doubtless  read  the  story  of  the  eminent  and 
accomplished  infidel  brought  providentially  to  the  house  of  the 
late  Mr.  Bethune  about  the  time  of  evening  worship.  He  was 
invited  by  his  host  to  remain  and  unite  with  them,  but  was  told 
that  if  it  was  not  agreeable  to  him  he  could  retire  until  the  ser- 
vice was  ended.  He  could  not  do  this  without  a  breach  of 
courtesy,  and  so  remained.  Years  afterward  that  stranger  came 
again  to  the  same  dwelling,  no  longer  as  the  infidel,  but  as 
the  earnest,  humble  man  of  piety  and  prayer.  It  was  then  he 
told  them  that  when  he  had  knelt  with  them  before  it  was  the 
first  time  for  many  years  that  he  had  bowed  the  knee  to  any 
God  ;  that  as  he  knelt  there  such  a  crowd  of  recollections  came 
upon  him,  such  emotions  filled  his  heart,  that  he  had  not  heard 
a  syllable  of  the  prayer  that  was  offered,  from  its  beginning  to 
its  close.  But  its  influence  followed  him  forth  in  all  his  wander- 
ings, so  that  he  could  find  no  rest  until  his  dreary  infidelity  had 
been  abandoned  for  the  love  and  service  of  his  God  and  Saviour. 
You  have  read  a  hundred  times  that  exquisite  poem  of  Burns, 
"  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  and  no  man  ever  read  it  who 
did  not  feel  that  there  is  the  picture  of  a  scene  in  itself  so 
comely,  so  beautiful,  so  appropriate  in  all  its  features  as  to  com- 
mend itself  to  the  admiration  of  God  and  man.  The  fact  that 
it  could  have  been  portrayed  by  such  a  man  as  Burns,  and  that, 


io8 


too,  not  as  a  fiction,  but  as  a  picture  of  what  his  own  eyes  had 
seen  in  his  father's  house,  and  what  many  of  us  have  seen  too, 
is  the  highest  testimony  to  its  divine  excellence  and  beauty. 
I  am  tempted  to  read  the  whole  of  it,  but  will  not.  Listen  to 
a  few  lines  :  — 

"  The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi'  serious  face, 

They  round  the  ingle  form  a  circle  wide  ; 
The  sire  turns  o'er,  wi'  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  ha'  Bible,  ance  his  father's  pride  ; 

His  bonnet  rev'rently  is  laid  aside. 
His  lyart  haffets  wearing  thin  and  bare  ; 

Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide. 
He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care  ; 
And  '  Let  us  worship  God  ! '  he  says,  with  solemn  air. 

"They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise  ; 

They  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim  : 
Perhaps  "  Dundee's  "  wild-warbling  measures  rise, 

Or  plaintive  "  Martyrs,"  worthy  of  the  name. 

Or  noble  "  Elgin  "  beets  the  heavenward  flame, 
The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays  : 

Compared  with  these,  Italian  trills  are  tame ; 
The  tickled  ear  no  heartfelt  raptures  raise  ; 
Nae  unison  hae  they  with  our  Creator's  praise. 

"  Then  kneeling  down,  to  heaven's  eternal  King, 

The  saint,  the  father,  and  the  husband  prays  : 
Hope  '  springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing,' 

That  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days : 

There  ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays. 
No  more  to  sigh  or  shed  the  bitter  tear. 

Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise, 
In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear; 
While  circling  Time  moves  round  in  an  eternal  sphere." 

Let  us  notice  now  one  main  excellence  of  this  service  in  giving 
a  religious  character  to  all  the  life  of  the  week.  The  public 
worship  of  the  Sabbath  and  the  sanctuary  is  not  enough.  God 
cannot  be  satisfied  with  the  (formal)  service  of  these  set  times 
and  places ;  we  ought  not  to  be  satisfied  with  it.  The  family 
is  before  the  church.  The  earliest  sacrifices  were  offered,  and 
must  have  been  offered,  not  in  public  assemblies,  but  upon  the 


I09 


altars  where  the  father  officiated  as  the  priest.  It  was  in  the 
family  of  Abraham  that  God  organized  His  church.  It  was  in 
the  families  of  the  olden  time  that  the  knowledge  and  the 
worship  of  the  true  God  was  kept  alive.  The  church  is  but 
the  outgrowth  of  the  family.  The  family  is  the  bud  of  the 
church.  And  there  is  a  world  of  meaning  in  that  phrase  which 
sometimes  occurs  in  the  New  Testament,  —  "  The  church  in  the 
house."  There  is  the  full  description  of  what  a  house,  and 
every  house,  should  be,  —  a  church,  a  place  of  worship  ;  and  all 
its  inmates  the  worshippers  :  and  the  obligation  which  brings 
us  here  to-day,  as  one  great  family  made  up  of  many,  is  the  same 
which  should  bring  us  in  our  own  dwellings  daily  to  pay  our 
vows  unto  the  Most  High.  He  claims  —  He  has  a  right  to 
claim  —  a  living  sacrifice  from  us,  —  the  love,  the  homage,  the 
obedience  of  a  life.  Surely  such  a  claim  as  this  cannot  find  its 
full  and  proper  recognition  in  our  public  occasional  or  Sabbath 
day  observances.  It  is  just  into  this  place  that  family  worship 
comes,  carrying  the  odor  of  the  church,  with  all  its  ordinances, 
instructions,  obligations,  and  influences,  into  all  our  times  ;  mak- 
ing of  every  day  a  Sabbath ;  interweaving  the  remembrances 
of  our  divine  relationships  into  the  whole  web  of  our  life  and 
experience.  Again,  the  religious  practices  of  the  heathen  may 
make  us  blush  for  our  neglects.  They  are  not  satisfied  with 
occasional  and  public  sacrifices  and  festivals.  Their  religion  is 
not  a  thing  of  certain  sacred  times  and  places  ;  it  asserts  itself 
every  day  and  almost  every  hour  in  constant  offerings  and  cease- 
less devotions.  The  followers  of  the  False  Prophet  may  shame 
us  with  their  fidelity ;  for  five  times  every  day,  wherever  they 
may  be  and  however  employed,  the  call  of  the  muezzin  from 
the  mosque  summons  them  to  prayer,  and  that  summons  never 
is  unheeded.  At  dawn,  at  noon,  at  four  o'clock,  at  sunset,  and 
at  nightfall,  every  head  is  bare,  and  every  voice  mutters  its  praise 
of  Allah  and  its  supplication  for  his  blessing.  Well  may  we 
blush  and  be  ashamed  if  we  will  not  give  to  our  God  what  the 
heathen  and  Mohammedan  would  not  withhold  from  theirs  ! 


no 


Let  me  speak  to  you  now  of  the  influence  of  this  service 
upon  the  peace  and  harmony  of  the  household.  It  is  as  the 
dew  of  Hermon,  and  as  the  dew  that  descended  upon  the 
mountains  ofZion;  for  there  the  Lord  commanded  the  bless- 
ing, even  life  forevermore.  I  cannot  think  of  anything  in  the 
whole  range  of  the  possible  which  could  exert  such  a  unifying 
power,  such  a  cementing  power,  such  a  controlling  and  regu- 
lating power,  as  this  constant  coming  of  the  family  before  the 
throne  of  the  one  great  Ruler  and  Father,  God.  Not  to  men- 
tion the  direct  answers  to  the  prayers  thus  offered,  —  answers 
which  are  assured  to  us  by  special  promises  and  covenants,  — 
there  is  that  in  the  very  service  itself  which  will  shed  a  hal- 
lowed influence  upon  the  whole  domestic  circle.  Even  the 
little  child  who  kneels  beside  his  mother,  scarcely  knowing 
what  it  all  means,  yet  feels  that  it  means  something  sacred, 
something  solemn,  something  without  the  range  and  beyond 
the  range  of  his  other  interests.  He  feels  that  there  is  in  it  a 
fellowship  with  a  something  which  his  eye  sees  not  and  his  ear 
hears  not,  but  a  something  real,  mighty,  holy,  supreme,  good, 
and  true.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  this  higher  relation  and 
this  higher  fellowship,  thus  kept  alive  in  every  breast  of  young 
and  old,  that  cannot  fail  to  assert  itself  more  or  less  in  all  the 
household  life  and  intercourse.  It  infuses  a  new  spirit  into 
every  relation,  and  raises  every  service  of  natural  love  and  duty 
into  the  higher  atmosphere  of  divine  responsibility.  It  conse- 
crates family  affection  by  pouring,  as  it  were,  holy  oil  upon  it, 
and  investing  it  with  the  sacredness  of  a  spiritual  sentiment. 
It  promotes  unity  of  interests  by  its  recognition  of  common  wants 
and  its  expression  of  common  sympathies.  It  gives  a  divine 
sanction  to  every  family  relationship  ;  and  whether  as  husband 
or  wife,  or  parent  or  child,  or  brother  or  sister,  or  master  or 
servant,  each  one  feels  the  impress  of  a  divine  obligation.  It 
banishes  selfishness,  and  subdues  evil  passions,  and  checks  the 
flow  of  angry  words,  and  gives  emphasis  to  discipline,  and  se- 
cures order  and  obedience,  —  all  by  the  constant  remembrance 


Ill 


which  it  brings  of  the  divine  authority  and  the  abiding  pres- 
ence which  it  secures  of  a  divine  spirit.  It  looks  to  God  as 
the  great  father  in  heaven ;  to  Jesus  Christ  as  husband,  brother, 
friend,  and  master  ;  and  in  the  higher  finds  the  rule  and  sanction 
of  the  lower,  —  in  the  divine  the  model  and  the  authority  of  the 
human.  It  is  evident  enough  that  in  a  household  governed  by 
such  influences  there  can  be  but  Httle  friction ;  that  all  its  parts 
must  move  smoothly  and  quietly  in  their  places ;  that  the  inter- 
course of  all  shall  be  like  the  harmony  of  different  instruments 
attuned  to  the  same  key.  And  then  when  affliction  comes,  —  as 
come  it  will  sooner  or  later  to  every  house, —  how  does  the  family 
altar  become  not  only  the  place  where  all  can  find  relief,  but 
the  place  where  sorrow  finds  its  saddest  but  its  sweetest  expres- 
sion, and  the  missing  link  in  that  household  chain  becomes  the 
bond  of  a  new  and  stronger  union.  And  so  in  all  the  scenes  of 
life,  —  painful  or  pleasing,  joyous  or  sad,  —  it  is  when  bowed 
before  the  Father  in  heaven  in  all  their  common  wants  and 
trials,  as  wefl  as  their  common  rejoicings,  that  they  find  the 
highest  realization  of  the  family  tie,  the  fullest  blessedness  of 
family  communion. 

And  now  if  you  will  follow  out  the  members  of  that  family 
into  the  world,  you  will  find  that  these  benign  and  sacred  in- 
fluences do  not  cease  to  operate  when  they  have  passed  the 
home  threshold.  Go  where  they  may,  they  walk  in  a  hallowed 
light ;  there  is  a  certain  restraint  upon  them,  and  it  will  be 
strange  indeed  if  sooner  or  later  the  covenant  blessing  shall  not 
come  upon  them,  and  the  benedictions  of  parental  love  be 
realized.  It  may  be  years  afterward,  when  the  feet  have  trav- 
elled far  away  from  the  home  of  childhood ;  when  the  voice 
which  once  invoked  this  benediction  has  long  been  hushed  in 
death ;  when  the  father's  toils  and  cares  have  long  ceased,  and 
the  mother's  gentle  hand  forgotten  its  cunning  ;  when  brother 
and  sister  are  parted  far  asunder,  and  the  dwelling  of  the  early 
years  has  long  been  desolate  ;  when  all  the  scenes  and  associa- 
tions of  other  days  have  no  place  left  but  in  the  memory.  — 


I  12 


even  then,  from  out  the  grave  of  their  long  buried  and  almost 
forgotten  past,  God  may  command  His  blessing,  even  life  for- 
evermore.  Many  a  young  man  has  been  saved  in  the  hour  of 
temptation  —  saved  even  from  fatal  and  final  ruin  —  by  the 
echoes  of  that  voice  which,  when  a  little  child,  he  heard  as  he 
knelt  beside  his  father,  or  perhaps  his  widowed  mother.  All 
the  clamors  of  passion,  selfishness,  and  sin  in  all  its  forms,  all 
the  alluring  voices  of  the  tempter  cannot  hush  these  echoes  in  his 
soul ;  all  the  forces  of  the  evil  one  will  oftentimes  fail  to  break 
the  sweet  influences  of  that  family  altar,  or  rob  them  of  their 
power.  If  you  would  send  your  children  out  into  life  attended 
by  guardian  angels  ;  if  you  would  save  your  sons  from  the  wiles 
of  the  adversary  ;  if  you  would  keep  your  daughters  from  a  fatal 
devotion  to  the  follies  and  frivolities  of  an  ungodly  world ;  if 
you  would  have  them  both  live  honorable,  happy,  useful  lives  ; 
if  you  would  meet  them  again  to  worship  with  them  before  the 
throne  of  Him  of  whom  the  whole  family  in  heaven  and  in  earth 
is  named,  —  I  pray  you  send  them  forth  from  the  altar  of 
daily  domestic  prayer.  And  if,  perchance,  you  have  not  yet 
built  such  an  altar  beneath  your  roof,  I  pray  you  let  not  this 
holy  Sabbath  close  before  you  gather  your  family  all  around 
you,  and  say  with  them,  and  to  them,  and  for  them,  "  As  for 
me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord." 

Newburyport,  Mass.,  July  8,  1865. 


113 

BY  WAY   OF   THE   SEA. 

.  .  .  DnrxSi  D;'n-nx  r\};^D  nhm  'nn  — Exoousxiii.  17.  is. 

The  promise  made  to  Abraham  that  his  seed  should  possess 
the  land  of  Canaan  was  about  to  be  fulfilled.     Ages  had  passed 
away  since  that  promise  was  made,  and  the  patriarch's  posterity 
were  bondsmen  in  Egypt.    Theirs  had  been  a  very  strange  and 
eventful  history  ;  but  through  it  all  they  had  been  preserved  a 
separate  people,  waiting  for  the  fulness  of  time  when  the  pur- 
pose of  God  should  be  executed  :  and  now  that  the  crisis  had 
come,  and  the  high  hand  and  outstretched  arm  of  Jehovah  had 
led  them  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  human  wisdom  and  human 
will  would  have  anticipated  for  them  a  short  and  easy  march  to 
their  promised  inheritance.     It  was  but  a  few  days'  journey  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  and  in  less  than  a  week  from  the  night  of 
their  hasty  departure  they  might  have  pitched  their  tents  in 
Palestine,  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan.     It  is  true  that,  taking 
that  northeasterly  course,  they  would  have  encountered  the  hos- 
tile forces  of  Philistia,  who  would  not  quietly  submit  to  see  their 
land  invaded  and  possessed  by  strangers,  —  and  for  such  oppo- 
sition Israel  was  poorly  prepared ;    but  how  easily  God  could 
have  given  them  the  victory,  as  afterwards  He  often  did  !    With 
sudden  panic  He  could  have  smitten  all  their  enemies,  or  with 
sudden  destruction  have  overwhelmed  them  and  the  banners 
of  the  invading  tribes  ;  He  could  have  planted  them  on  every 
hill-top  of  the  goodly  country,  and  not  a  dog  should  have  dared 
to  move  his  tongue  against  them.     There  must  have  been  other 
reasons  than  that  given  in  the  text  why  this  course  was  not 
taken,  and  they  were  turned  instead   in  a  southeasterly  direc- 
tion, not  only  aside  from  the  straight,  short  way  they  might  have 
taken,  but  also  into  a  place  where  death  or  recapture  seemed 
inevitable  should  Pharaoh  pursue  them,  —  as  they  knew  that  he 

•5 


114 


would.  It  must  have  been  a  marvellous  and  mysterious  disap- 
pointment to  the  people  —  and  not  less  so  to  Moses  and  Aaron 
their  leaders  —  when  the  order  was  issued  that  they  should  take 
their  march  toward  Migdol  and  the  sea,  and  there  encamp  with 
the  wilderness  behind  them  and  the  mountains  beside  them, 
and  an  impassable  sea  before  them.     I  gather,  therefore, 

First,  from  this  narrative,  a  lesson  in  regard  to  God's  treat- 
ment of  His  people,  —  that  He  often  leads  them  toward  the  sea. 
His  ways  are  not  our  ways  ;  His  will  is  not  our  will.  It  is  very 
natural  that  we  should  desire  an  easy,  if  not  a  short  journey  to 
the  promised  inheritance  of  His  people  ;  and  reason  seems 
at  first  sight  on  the  side  of  this  desire.  What  motive  can  He 
have  in  hindering  the  fulfilment  of  His  own  purpose  ?  What 
have  we  to  gain  by  delay?  Surely  He  can  have  no  pleasure  in 
the  perils  and  affrights  into  which  we  may  come  !  We  naturally 
wish  to  shield  those  whom  we  love  from  trouble,  —  it  is  indeed 
the  great  effort  of  our  life  \  every  day  we  are  seeking,  not  only 
to  escape  difficulties  ourselves,  but  to  protect  them,  and  to  lead 
them  into  safe  and  pleasant  places.  Parental  foresight  is  ever 
anticipating  the  dangers  possible  to  the  young,  —  parental  skill  is 
ever  taxed  to  avert  them,  and  parental  toil  continually  employs 
itself  in  providing  for  them  or  against  them ;  and  why  should 
not  the  Heavenly  Father,  who  surely  loves  His  children  not 
less  than  we  love  ours,  exercise  the  same  care  and  loving-kind- 
ness toward  them  ?  He  has  too  (what  we  have  not)  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  all  that  may  befall  them  (foreseeing  every  possible 
danger  and  difficulty),  and  infinite  power  to  prevent  or  to  remove 
every  obstacle  from  our  path ;  we  fail  in  our  effort  for  want  of 
both.  We  are  so  ignorant  and  so  weak.  We  neither  know 
what  is  before  us,  nor  have  we  the  needful  resources  to  prevail 
against  it ;  and  so  we  are  compelled  to  see  all  our  life  long 
our  best  beloved  brought  into  perils  and  distresses  from  which 
we  would  have  given  all  we  had  to  save  them,  —  would  sometimes 
cheerfully  have  given  life  itself,  if  thereby  we  could  have  pur- 
chased exemption  for  them.     And  so  I  say  it  is  all  the  more  a 


115 


wonder  that  the  infinitely  loving,  wise,  and  mighty  Father  should 
deal  so  differently  with  His  children. 

And  the  wonder  grows  the  greater  when  we  remember  that 
into  these  scenes  of  trial  we  are  often  brought  by  no  infirmity 
or  fault  of  our  own ;  we  might  understand  that  then  He  might 
permit  the  trial  to  teach  us  some  lessons  which  we  could  not 
learn  so  well  in  any  other  way.  But  it  was  by  His  own  direct 
command  that  Israel  was  led  toward  the  sea.  It  was  not  the 
choice  of  the  people  ;  it  was  not  by  their  becoming  lost  in  the 
wilderness  ;  it  was  not  through  any  ignorance .  or  mistake  of 
Moses  their  leader.  It  was  God  himself  who  said  to  Moses, 
"  Speak  unto  the  children  of  Israel  that  they  turn  and  encamp 
before  Pi-hahiroth,  between  Migdol  and  the  sea."  It  was  the 
Lord  himself  who  went  before  them  by  day  in  a  pillar  of  cloud 
to  lead  them  that  way,  and  by  night  in  a  pillar  of  fire  to  give 
them  light.  It  is  the  Lord  Himself  who,  not  less  manifestly, 
leads  us  many  a  time  into  like  places  of  peril ;  compels  us 
against  our  will,  —  and  oftentimes  against  our  best  judgment 
too,  —  into  the  greatest  straits.  For  it  is  not  in  man  that 
walketh  to  direct  his  steps.  A  man's  heart  deviseth  his  way, 
but  the  Lord  directeth  his  steps.  Above  all  our  purposes 
presides  the  great  purpose  of  our  God  ;  above  all  our  thoughts 
the  higher  thought  of  an  infinite  mind  ;  and  if  need  be,  aside 
from  all  the  ways  of  our  choosing,  the  way  which  He  has 
chosen.  To  that  purpose  we  must  yield,  whether  we  will  or 
no  ;  in  that  way  we  must  walk,  whether  it  lead  us  into  green 
pastures  and  beside  waters  of  repose,  or  into  narrow  gorges  of 
the  mountain  and  right  up  to  the  waves  of  the  rolling  sea. 

And  so  we  sometimes  do  ourselves  a  great  injustice,  and  in- 
flict much  needless  sorrow  on  our  own  souls,  by  finding  occasion 
in  these  troubles  that  we  meet  to  accuse  ourselves  of  sin  and 
foolishness,  as  though  these  were  necessarily  the  causes  of  the 
trouble.  Very  often  it  is  true  that  we  may  thus  account  for 
them,  and  very  justly  blame  ourselves  for  them.  It  is  folly  to 
be  finding  fault  with  the  providence  of  God  as  mysterious  and 


ii6 


unkind  to  us,  when  we  have  brought  ourselves  into  the  danger 
by  a  disregard  of  His  law. 

But  to  speak  thus  of  all  the  disasters  and  difficulties  we  en- 
counter is  to  offend  against  the  generation  of  God's  children. 
There  are  innumerable  perils  of  our  pilgrimage  for  which  we 
are  in  no  way  accountable.  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Lord  that 
calls  us  to  meet  them  ;  it  is  the  hand  of  the  Lord  that  leads  us 
toward  them,  and  not  all  our  wisdom,  skill,  or  might  could 
alter  or  avert  them.  Let  us  pass  by  for  the  present  all  at- 
tempted explanation  of  them.  The  way  of  the  Lord  is  toward 
the  sea. 

Is  not  that  true  ?  Is  this  march  of  the  emancipated  Hebrews 
the  only  instance  on  record  of  the  guidance  of  His  people  into 
a  place  of  greatest  peril  ?  Is  it  not  rather  the  type  of  all  their 
progress  from  this  Egypt  where  they  dwelt  to  the  land  of 
promise  which  they  seek  ?  Has  it  not  been  the  history  of  His 
Church  in  all  ages  ?  Has  she  not  many  a  time  fled  into  the 
wilderness,  escaping  imprisonment  and  persecution  only  to  find 
herself  face  to  face  with  dangers  and  difficulties  as  great  as  those 
she  left  behind  her?  Has  it  not  often  happened  thus  in  our 
own  experience?  Even  when  we  listened  to  the  call  of  God, 
even  when  we  followed  the  plainest  guidance  of  His  providence. 
He  has  led  us  to  the  mountain  and  the  sea,  —  led  us  directly 
toward  such  obstacles  and  oppositions  as  seemed  immovable 
and  invincible,  —  hedged  in  our  way  as  we  sometimes  term  it ; 
but  more  and  more  mysterious  than  that,  between  these  hedges 
on  either  side  brought  us  to  barriers  which  appeared  impass- 
able, and  which  to  all  skill  and  might  of  our  own  were  as  impass- 
able as  a  sea  which  we  could  neither  bridge  nor  ford  nor  sail 
over,  —  as  a  mountain  whose  rugged  heights  we  could  not  climb, 
and  around  which  we  could  find  no  way.  In  the  frequent 
defeat  of  our  plans  and  disappointment  of  our  hopes ;  in  the 
obligations  we  have  been  forced  to  assume ;  in  the  perplexities 
we  are  compelled  to  meet  almost  every  day  that  we  live  ;  in  the 
various  troubles,  misfortunes,  and  calamities  we  encounter ;  in 


117 


the  losses  which  are  more  or  less  the  lot  of  us  all,  —  what  are  all 
these  but  the  direct  issues  of  the  road  along  which  the  hand 
of  God  has  led  us  ?  Where  lives  the  man  who  has  not  thus 
sometimes  been  brought  to  the  borders  of  the  sea  ? 

Then  let  us  accept  it  as  in  some  sense  a  necessity  of  our 
experience,  and  let  us  be  content  only  to  feel  assured  that, 
whithersoever  God's  way  may  lead  us,  it  is  His  way,  and  not 
that  of  our  own  folly.  Then  we  may  without  distrust  or  fear 
await  the  issue. 

Thus  stands  the  Hebrew  host,  shut  in  on  every  hand.  They 
could  not  turn  back,  for  the  chariots  and  horsemen  of  Pharaoh 
were  in  swift  and  angry  pursuit.  They  could  not  go  to  the 
right  nor  the  left,  for  the  frowning  precipices  of  the  mountain 
stood  as  a  wall  on  either  side.  They  could  not  go  forward 
without  being  drowned  in  the  depths  of  the  sea.  Was  it  strange 
that  a  great  fear  fell  upon  the  hearts  of  the  people  ?  Was  it 
strange  that  they  began  a  bitter  complaint  against  Moses  and 
against  Jehovah  Himself  for  bringing  them  out  to  die  in  the 
wilderness?  Was  it  strange  that  they  looked  back  with  longing 
regret  even  to  their  hard  lot  in  Egypt,  and  thought  it  better  that 
they  should  have  remained  there  than  to  meet  the  certain  death 
which  awaited  them  here?  Ungrateful  and  rebellious  as  we 
deem  them,  and  as  they  were,  let  us  not  be  too  severe  in  our 
condemnation.  Have  we  not,  many  a  time,  been  guilty  of  the 
same  sin  ?  When  following  the  leadings  of  God's  providence, 
obeying  what  seemed  plainly  to  us  the  call  of  duty,  we  have 
been  brought  iyto  great  peril  and  perplexity,  have  we  not  in- 
dulged hard  thoughts  of  God,  accused  Him  of  unkindness,  and 
repented  that  we  had  listened  to  His  voice?  Have  we  not 
been  sore  afraid  and  cried  aloud  to  God  in  mingled  petition 
and  reproach. 

Thus  cried  Israel,  and  thus  provoked  the  Lord  with  their  un- 
belief. And  then  it  was  that  He  answered  them  in  words  which 
might  have  stricken  them  with  new  terrors,  —  for  He  said  unto 
Moses  :  "  Wherefore  criest  thou  unto  me  ?    Speak  unto  the  chil- 


ii8 


dren  of  Israel  that  they  go  forward."  No  backward  flight,  no 
surrender  to  their  foes,  no  determined  stand  against  them  nor 
battle  with  them,  but  "  forward,"  even  though  it  seemed  to  be 
into  a  watery  grave.     I  gather,  therefore,  — 

Secondly,  from  this  narrative,  a  lesson  in  regard  to  God's  treat- 
ment of  His  people,  —  that  he  often  leads  them  into  the  sea.  His 
ways  are  not  our  ways.  Israel  might  well  have  looked  for  some 
other  method  of  deliverance.  AVhy  did  He  not  drive  back  the 
Egyptian  host  ?  or  why  did  He  not  show  them  some  pass  through 
the  mountains  by  which  they  might  yet  escape  ?  or  why  did  He 
not  suffer  them  to  remain  encamped  where  they  were  until 
some  way  might  be  discovered  by  which  they  might  go  around 
the  Red  Sea,  or  build  them  vessels  by  which  they  might  be 
carried  over  it.  Very  marvellous  indeed  it  must  have  sounded 
to  them  when  the  command  was  issued  that  they  should  march 
right  into  the  sea  ;  and  if  some  of  them  shrank  back  as  they  drew 
near  the  brink,  it  was  no  unnatural  fear  that  arrested  them. 
Have  we  not  stayed  our  steps  too,  full  oftentimes,  when  God  has 
ordered  us  forward  into  the  midst  of  dangers.  Brought  face  to 
face  with  trouble,  is  it  not  the  instinctive  desire  of  every  one 
to  find  some  way  of  escape  from  it,  some  way  around  it,  some 
way  of  sailing  over  it,  —  any  way  rather  than  to  plunge  right  into 
it  ?  Is  not  this,  too,  in  large  degree  the  business  of  our  daily  Hfe, 
— •  just  to  avoid  the  perils  to  the  brink  of  which  our  progress  has 
brought  us?  No  man  enjoys  the  direct  encounter  with  them  ; 
he  may  well  be  afraid  of  them ;  he  cannot  tell  what  the  issue 
may  be  ;  it  often  seems  like  rushing  upon  certain  disaster  or 
death  to  go  forward.  And  so  we  stand  like  Israel,  trembling 
on  the  shore,  unable  to  go  back  and  unwilling  to  go  on  ;  and 
so  hkewise  it  often  happens  that  we  can  hear  no  response  to 
our  cry  save  that  which  bids  us  go  forward.  We  7}tust  encounter 
dangers  ;  we  must  get  into  trouble  ;  that  is  the  only  way  by 
which  we  can  make  any  advance  ;  it  is  the  only  way,  indeed, 
by  which  we  can  escape  worse  evils.  We  cannot  stay  where 
we  are  :    we  are  so   compassed  with   dangers,  such   infuriate 


119 


foes  are  pressing  on  behind  us,  such  sure  destruction  awaits 
us  if  we  stand  still  !  That  is  life,  —  more  or  less  the  life  of  all 
of  us.  To  some  it  comes  sooner  and  to  some  later  ;  to  some  in 
one  form  and  to  some  in  another;  but  sooner  or  later,  and 
in  some  form  or  other,  it  is  the  experience  of  almost  all  who  are 
journeying  to  the  better  country.  Perhaps  God  might  have 
ordered  otherwise,  -r-  we  do  not  know  ;  He  might  have  carried 
the  Hebrews  to  the  farther  shore  of  the  sea  in  some  other  way,  — 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  that.  Occasionally  it  would  seem 
that  one  is  thus  transported  to  the  heavenly  Canaan  without 
the  trial  of  the  many ;  but  the  law  of  progress  is  into  the  sea, 
and  we  have  no  good  reason  to  expect  the  suspension  of  the 
law  in  our  behalf  Two  of  our  race  have  been  taken  to  heaven 
without  having  seen  death,  —  only  to  show  what  God  could  do 
with  all  if  so  He  should  choose,  and  what  perhaps  He  would 
have  done  with  all  had  no  sin  brought  death  into  the  world. 
But  we  shall  not  be  Enochs  and  Elijahs ;  through  the  low- 
arched  portal  of  the  grave  we  must  pass  to  the  celestial  city, 
and  not  in  chariots  of  fire  nor  borne  on  angels'  wings.  And  so 
too  we  must  meet  the  common  lot  of  mortals  ;  and  when  trouble 
comes  it  is  vain  for  us  to  think  of  any  devices  of  our  own  or  any 
divine  interposition  by  which  we  may  escape  the  threatening 
evil.  Have  you  not  found  that  out  from  past  experience  ?  Have 
you  not  stood  affrighted  in  the  presence  of  some  impending 
peril,  and  prayed,  even  as  Jesus  prayed,  with  bleeding  heart 
and  beaded  brow,  "  O  God,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass 
from  me  !  "  —  but  it  passed  not,  as  it  passed  not  from  Him  ;  and 
Heaven's  only  reply  to  that  wail  of  prayer  was  the  command  to 
take  that  cup  and  drink  it,  —  yea,  drain  it  to  its  last  and  bitterest 
drop. 

Do  you  remember  that  day  of  darkness,  —  that  hour  when 
you  stood  appalled  at  the  prospect  before  you,  when  the 
shadow  of  death  was  at  the  door  and  you  begged  of  God  that 
He  would  not  let  him  cross  the  threshold?  And  that  prayer 
God  did  not  think  it  best  to  hear,  because  He  had  another  pur- 


I20 


pose  and  a  better  way  for  you,  —  though  you  could  not  see  it, 
and  could  not  then  have  understood  it  if  you  had  seen.  Accept 
this,  then,  as  something  which  must  needs  be.  Brought  to  the 
borders  of  any  sea,  only  be  sure  that  it  is  the  hand  of  God  that 
has  led  you  thither.  Pray  for  exemption  from  the  threatening 
waves  if  you  please,  but  do  not  be  disappointed  if  there  comes 
back  only  this  word,  —  "  Go  forward."  Forward  then  to  the 
margin,  and  forward  into  the  waves,  if  it  is  the  Lord  who  bids 
you  go  on. 

Thus  Israel  obeyed.  Encouraged  or  compelled,  there  was 
no  choice  for  them,  and  forward  they  must  go.  And  now  the 
marvel  of  the  divine  word  is  explained ;  the  mystery  of  the 
divine  purpose  is  revealed ;  for  those  perilous  waves  are  parted 
at  their  approach,  and  ere  the  first  foot  has  touched  the  waters, 
they  have  receded  before  it,  and  the  bed  of  the  sea  is  as  dry  as 
the  sands  of  the  desert.  Along  that  wondrous  way  the  mighty 
host  marches  on  as  safely  and  as  peacefully  as  over  the  best- 
built  highways  of  the  land.  "  The  waters  saw  Thee,  O  God  ;  the 
waters  saw  Thee,  and  were  afraid.  At  Thy  rebuke  they  fled  ; 
at  the  voice  of  Thy  thunder  they  hasted  away.  He  divided 
the  sea  and  caused  them  to  pass  through,  and  He  made  the 
waters  to  stand  as  a  heap."     I  gather,  therefore,  — 

Thirdly,  from  this  narrative,  a  lesson  in  regard  to  God's 
treatment  of  His  people,  — that  He  often  leads  them  through  the 
sea.  We  read  the  story  of  this  miracle  with  great  astonish- 
ment ;  but  what  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  the  Hebrews 
as  they  marched  dry-shod  along  the  very  bed  of  the  sea  in 
whose  waves  they  had  thought  themselves  about  to  be  swal- 
lowed up  !  Did  they  tremble  still  as  they  saw  that  great  wall 
of  waters  piled  up  beside  them  ?  If  so,  how  foolish  and  how 
ungrateful  their  fears  !  Would  the  Lord  bring  them  into  the 
depths  to  drown  them  with  the  returning  waves?  That  is 
not  God's  way  with  His  people  ;  that  is  not  His  purpose  in 
bringing  them  out  of  Egypt ;  not  thus  can  His  word  be  ful- 
filled which  insures  them  the  possession  of  the  land  beyond 
the  flood  as  their  inheritance. 


121 


Ah,  how  often  that  miracle  is  repeated  in  the  history  of  His 
people  !  How  often  His  church  has  passed  through  seas  of 
tribulation  and  danger ;  aye,  even  through  seas  of  blood,  —  the 
blood  of  her  own  martyred  children  !  How  often  the  waters 
in  which  it  seemed  she  must  perish  have  parted  as  she  drew 
near  them,  and  through  them  she  has  travelled  as  safely  as  in 
the  days  of  her  mightiest  triumph  and  prosperity  !  And  surely, 
therefore,  it  were  a  sin  to  doubt  the  purpose  or  the  power  of 
God  to  give  her  the  possession  promised  from  the  earliest  ages 
of  the  world.  Her  fall  or  her  failure  would  be  no  less  a  re- 
proach and  a  dishonor  done  to  her  God  than  would  have  been 
the  overwhelming  and  destruction  of  the  Hebrew  host  by  the 
returning  waves  of  the  sea.  There  are  other  interests  than  ours 
at  stake  on  the  issue  :  it  is  God's  own  name,  —  that  name  she 
bears  as  the  Church  of  the  living  God,  —  that  is  to  be  crowned 
with  glory  or  with  shame  as  she  shall  prosper  or  shall  fail  of  her 
reward.  Among  the  nations  of  that  Eastern  country  who  looked 
with  astonishment  and  awe  on  the  rescue  of  Israel  from  Egypt, 
God  would  have  covered  Himself  with  disgrace  if  He  had  per- 
mitted the  proud  waters  to  roll  over  His  ransomed  people  ; 
and  among  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  of  all  times,  a  like 
disgrace  will  be  His  if  by  any  perils  of  sea  or  of  land  He  should 
suffer  His  blood-purchased  Church  to  perish.  And  all  our 
doubts  and  fears,  therefore,  are  without  any  reason  or  excuse,  — 
until  we  lose  all  faith  in  the  purpose,  the  truth,  and  the  power 
of  God,  —  all  faith  in  the  covenant  with  His  well-beloved  Son. 
And  if  thus  with  His  Church,  how  can  it  be  otherwise  with  any 
of  His  people?  Is  there  any  danger  that  one  of  them  shall 
perish  whom  He  designs  to  save  ?  Is  there  any  desert  where 
one  of  them  shall  die  of  drought  ?  any  sea  in  which  one  of  them 
shall  be  drowned?  Then  is  He  false  to  His  word,  or  fickle  in 
His  purpose,  or  too  feeble  to  achieve  what  He  has  undertaken. 

Away  with  all  such  foolish,  sinful  fears  !  Follow  that  hurrying 
multitude  as  they  press  through  the  sea,  and  you  are  following 
the  track  of  every  ransomed  soul  that  ever  the  Lord  led  out  of 

i6 


122 


its  house  of  bondage.  It  matters  not  along  what  way  it  is  trav- 
elling ;  what  dangers  beset  it  behind  and  before ;  what  walls  of 
water  or  of  fire  are  beside  it,  —  its  face  is  toward  the  promised 
land,  and  a  pillar  of  cloud  or  of  light  will  guide  it  to  the  end. 
Who  has  not  learned  what  Israel  learned  by  that  passage  through 
the  sea?  Who  that  has  had  any  experience  of  life  has  not 
found,  —  not  the  dehverance  from  trouble  for  which  he  prayed, 
but  a  safe  and  easy  passage  through  it,  which  is  far  better? 
Thus  the  prayer  was  more  than  answered.  Peace  in  the  midst 
of  tribulation  is  better  than  peace  in  freedom  from  tribulation. 
Safety  in  the  midst  of  dangers  is  better  than  to  be  safe  away 
from  all  danger.  Thus  many  a  time  the  Lord  has  led  us  through 
the  sea.  Do  you  remember  the  time  when  it  seemed  as  though 
you  must  surely  die  amid  the  dangers  and  distresses  into  which 
you  were  brought?  and  yet  you  lived,  and  lived  it  may  be  a 
happier  and  holier  life  than  if  the  Lord  had  granted  you  the 
freedom  which  you  sought.  How  often  the  very  waters  which 
you  feared  to  approach  have  fled  before .  you,  and  what  seemed 
impassable  you  have  safely  gone  through  ;  and  what  seemed  im- 
possible you  have  easily  accomplished ;  and  what  seemed  in- 
tolerable you  have  easily  borne  !  How  many  a  burden  you 
have  carried  which  you  thought  would  have  crushed  you  to  the 
earth  !  How  many  disappointments  you  have  met  which  you 
had  thought  would  have  killed  you  with  despair  !  How  many 
cares  and  anxieties  you  have  sustained,  the  thought  of  which 
would  have  filled  you  with  dismay  !  How  many  treasures  you 
have  lost,  without  which  you  thought  you  could  not  (and  wished 
not  to)  live  one  hour  !  And  what  was  all  this  but  God's  leading 
through  the  sea ;  and  more  than  this,  leading  you  in  triumph, 
and  rejoicing  as  you  saw  that  none  of  these  things  which  you 
feared  so  much  had  any  power  to  kill  or  to  hurt  ?  That  is  the 
crowning  marvel  of  the  way,  —  that  all  these  dangers  and  dis- 
tresses stand  aside,  as  the  waters  of  the  sea  stood  while  Israel 
passed  over  ;  and  that  even  through  the  midst  of  them  we  move 
on  unharmed,  —  aye,  that  even  the  heartiest  songs  of  our  praise 


r23 


and  rejoicing  are  sung  as  we  jtnirncy  through  the  midst  of  the 
heaviest  adversities  and  alarms. 

But  the  perilous  passage  is  ended  at  last ;  and  dry-shod  up 
from  the  depths  of  the  sea  comes  that  rescued  people  and  stands 
in  safety  on  the  farther  shore.  No  more  of  fear  and  alarm  ;  no 
lingering  dread  of  sea  or  mountain  ;  no  pursuing  host  of  foes 
pressing  on.  The  divided  waters  have  rolled  together  again, 
and  the  dangerous  sea  slumbers  peacefully  in  its  summer  calm. 
And  more  than  this  :  beneath  that  reunited  flood  is  buried  the 
army  of  Egypt.  "  Sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  He  hath  triumphed 
gloriously ;  the  horse  and  his  rider  hath  He  thrown  into  the 
sea.  Pharaoh's  chariots  and  his  host  hath  He  cast  into  the  sea  ; 
his  chosen  captains  also  are  drowned  in  the  Red  Sea.  The 
depths  have  covered  them  ;  they  sank  into  the  bottom  as  a 
stone  ;  they  sank  like  lead  in  the  mighty  waters."  I  gather, 
therefore,  — 

FourtJtly,  from  this  narrative,  a  lesson  in  regard  to  God's 
treatment  of  His  people,  —  that  he  often  leads  them  out  of  the  sea. 
Often,  did  I  say  ?  aye,  always  ;  for  out  of  every  trouble  and 
distress,  and  out  of  every  danger,  the  Lord  will  save.  The 
angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round  about  them  that  fear  Him, 
and  delivereth.  It  was  the  angel  of  His  presence  that  rescued, 
guided,  guarded,  the  chosen  people  ;  and  that  angel  guardianship 
and  guidance  will  carry  them  safely  and  surely  to  the  promised 
rest.  By  a  journey  of  forty  or  of  fourscore  years,  or  by  a  few 
days  more  of  travel,  it  matters  not,  —  the  goodly  land  shall  be 
won.  Why  are  ye  fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith  ?  Has  He  not 
verified  the  promise,  "  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters  I 
will  be  with  thee,  and  through  the  rivers  they  shall  not  overflow 
thee?"  Then  what  if  the  desert  still  lies  beyond?  Is  not  His 
past  mercy  a  pledge  of  future  safety?  He  hath  delivered  ;  He 
doth  deliver ;  and  we  trust  that  He  will  yet  deliver.  Is  any- 
thing too  hard  for  the  Lord?  Is  there  any  mountain  over 
which  He  cannot  lead  us ;  any  sea  through  which  He  cannot 
find  a  way ;  any  desert  where  He  cannot  furnish  us  with  food 


124 


and  drink?  Aye,  even  though  we  see  the  lightnings  and  hear 
the  thunderings  of  Sinai ;  though  His  righteous  and  holy  law 
should  detain  us  by  the  way,  —  not  even  that  shall  stay  us  in  our 
course.  Along  the  base  of  that  threatening  mountain,  through 
the  desert  of  Sin,  through  all  the  perils  and  conflicts  of  our 
wandering,  we  shall  come  at  last  to  the  land  of  peace  and  plenty. 
Look  back  and  see  how  out  of  every  sea  Jehovah  hath  brought 
us ;  look  forward,  then,  and  be  assured  that  whatever  may  be 
before  you,  the  same  right  hand,  so  glorious  in  power,  will  bring 
deliverance.  And  then  when  your  feet  shall  stand  on  the  bank 
of  that  river  which  flows  between  the  desert  and  the  promised 
land,  oh,  doubt  not  the  goodness  and  the  might  of  Him  who  has 
led  you  thither  through  the  sea  and  through  all  the  wilderness 
and  solitary  places  of  the  world  ! 

Again  the  waters  shall  be  parted  as  your  feet  draw  nigh,  and, 
Jordan  past,  you  stand  secure  on  Canaan's  heavenly  shore. 
Toward  the  sea,  into  the  sea,  through  the  sea,  out  of  the  sea, 
—  and  then  the  land  where  is  no  more  sea  ! 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  Aug.  29,  1879. 


125 


TILL   HE    COME. 

'OaciKts  yap  hv  i<rdir]T€  rhv  &pTov  tovtov,  Kal  t6  irori)piov  tovto  TrivTjTe, 
Thv  QavaTov  rov  Kvpiov  KaTuyyeWeTe,  &xp^s  oii  eK6r]. —  I  CoK.  xi.  26. 

The  great  office  of  the  Church  is  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth, 
—  the  truth  of  God's  being,  character,  and  will ;  and  especially 
the  truth  in  relation  to  Christ,  —  His  nature,  history,  and  office, — 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  Into  that  service  everything  is 
to  be  impressed,  and  to  it  everything  else  is  to  be  made  sub- 
servient. She  is  not  responsible  for  anything  further.  Let  the 
issues  be  what  they  may,  she  has  acquitted  herself  in  the  sight 
of  her  God  if  she  has  faithfully  borne  her  testimony  to  the 
truth.  It  may  be  an  offence  to  the  Jew  and  foohshness  to  the 
Greek  ;  it  may  encounter  indifference  or  unbelief  or  positive 
hostility  ;  men  may  hear  or  may  forbear,  be  saved  or  perish  with 
it,  —  it  matters  not.  A  witness  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  conse- 
quences of  the  truth  which  he  has  sworn  to  tell ;  judge  and 
jury  must  settle  these.  It  would  relieve  our  minds  of  some  diffi- 
culties and  disappointments  if  we  should  remember  this.  It 
would  give  us  higher  ideas  of  the  dignity  of  the  Church  and 
all  her  ordinances,  —  regarding  them  thus  in  their  relations  to  her 
Lord,  as  accomplishing  for  Him  the  work  He  has  assigned  them, 
irrespective  of  all  human  conduct  or  experience  as  affected  by 
them. 

And  so,  if  we  would  understand  the  meaning  of  this  sacra- 
ment of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  give  it  its  true  place  in  the 
ministry  of  the  Church,  we  must  look  upon  it  in  this  light,  —  must 
listen  to  it  as  it  bears  witness  to  what  it  has  seen  and  heard  and 
handled  of  the  Word  of  life.  And  that  witness  it  bears  not  to 
any  theories  or  speculations  or  creeds,  but  to  one  single  fact,  — 
the  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  other  things  growing  out  of 
this  or  connected  with  it.  But  the  essential  meaning  and  pov/er 
of  the  sacrament  is   this,  that  it  testifies  to  the  death  of  the 


126 


Lord  Jesus  ;  observe,  not  to  the  faith  of  the  church  in  it,  or 
to  our  individual  faith  in  it,  but  to  the  fact  itself,  as  a  fact. 
How  else  can  we  possibly  account  for  its  observance  through 
these  past  centuries?  What  other  origin  can  you  ascribe  to  it? 
What  else  could  have  suggested  it,  or  what  motive  could  any 
man  have  had  in  its  appointment ;  and  how  else  could  it  have 
taken  and  maintained  its  place  in  the  worship  of  the  Church? 
There  is  no  answer  to  these  questions  but  the  one.  And  often, 
therefore,  as  we  eat  this  bread  and  drink  this  cup,  we  do  show 
the  Lord's  death.  I  say  again,  — not  show  our  belief  of  it,  but  the 
truth  of  it,  our  participation  of  it  as  the  testimony  to  our  faith 
in  it ;  the  sacrament  itself  is  the  testimony  to  the  fact  in 
which  we  believe.  Whoever  looks  upon  these  symbols  of  the 
Saviour's  passion  has  virtually  seen  Christ  crucified.  They  who 
witnessed  His  actual  death  on  Calvary  have  hardly  any  advantage 
over  us  in  their  assurance  of  the  event.  There  is  a  disposition 
nowadays  to  discredit  some  of  the  most  important  personages 
and  events  of  ancient  history  ;  even  to  throw  a  doubt  over 
their  existence  and  to  deny  that  there  is  any  truth  in  some  of 
the  stories  which  we  have  always  believed  concerning  them. 
Thus  the  heroes  whom  we  have  read  of  all  our  days  are  ban- 
ished from  the  domain  of  history  to  the  region  of  romance, 
and  we  shall  hardly  know  after  a  while  what  is  fact  and  what  is 
fable.  But  as  often  as  this  table  is  spread  there  is  the  publica- 
tion, the  reproduction,  of  an  occurrence  which  cannot  be  dis- 
credited ;  because  if  it  had  never  happened,  it  never  could  have 
been  commemorated  in  this  manner.  That  there  was  a  man 
called  Jesus  the  Christ  who  did  thus  die  long  centuries  ago,  is 
just  as  certain  to  us  as  though  we  had  seen  Him  ;  and  through 
all  the  centuries  yet  to  come  that  fact  remains  unimpeachable 
in  the  repeated  witness  of  this  simple  ordinance.  Build  upon  it 
whatever  theories  men  may  please  ;  interpret  it  in  whatever  way, 
believe  or  disbelieve  all  else  recorded  of  Him,  still  He  did 
die  a  bloody  death.  And  we  to-day,  in  these  ends  of  the  earth 
then   unknown,  and  after  the  lapse  of  all  these  ages,  are  pro- 


127 


claiming  this  fact  as  positively  and  as  clearly  as  they  who  went 
from  Calvary  and  the  cross  to  tell  what  they  had  witnessed 
there.  While,  therefore,  we  thus  renew  the  profession  of  our 
faith  in  Him,  let  us  also  rejoice  in  every  such  opportunity  to 
repeat  the  testimony  to  this  great  fact  of  history. 

That  is  one  aspect  of  this  sacrament  as  it  looks  back  to  the 
past  of  long  ago ;  but  there  is  another  aspect  of  it,  less  promi- 
nent in  our  regard,  though  not  less  important  in  its  significance 
and  results.  It  is  a  prophecy  no  less  than  a  history ;  it  looks 
forward  as  well  as  backward  ;  and  it  foretells  as  plainly  another 
event  as  it  records  one  already  accomplished.  Nay,  more  :  it 
is  the  future  which  gives  to  the  past  all  its  worth  and  power,  — 
which  makes  it  worthy  of  remembrance  or  commemoration. 
More  even  than  this  :  the  death  which  thus  we  proclaim  was 
the  death  of  all  our  hopes,  and  we  are  publishing  to  the  world 
the  bitterest  disappointment  we  could  ever  know,  —  publishing 
ever  a  fraud  and  imposture  which  it  would  be  far  better  that 
we  should  permit  to  pass  into  oblivion,  if  it  is  a  dead  Saviour 
in  whom  we  put  our  trust.  Does  our  interest  in  Him,  our 
relationship  to  Him,  cease  at  the  cross  on  which  He  died,  or 
at  the  sepulchre  in  which  they  laid  Him  ?  Then,  indeed,  it  had 
been  better  for  us  that  we  should  forget  Him  ;  for  He  has  mocked 
us  with  false  promises,  and  our  best  and  fondest  expectations 
were  buried  in  His  grave.  Not  all  else  that  He  had  said  or  done 
could  give  us  any  comfort ;  not  all  His  wise  and  loving  words  ; 
not  all  His  miracles  of  power  and  grace  ;  not  even  that  won- 
drous death  itself.  The  sorrow  which  overwhelmed  His  friends 
and  followers  when  He  died  would  be  our  sorrow  still ;  and  as 
that  sorrow  must  soon  have  turned  with  them  into  indignation 
at  the  deception  practised  upon  them,  so  it  would  be  with  in- 
dignation too  that  we  should  recall  His  life  and  His  death,  and 
the  blessings  and  thanksgivings  we  pay  would  be  converted  into 
heaviest  accusations  and  curses. 

Let  us  be  joyful,  therefore,  in  a  redemption  not  ended  in  His 
death, — which  had  only  been  to  us  the  end  of  all  our  hope,  — but 


128 


finished  in  His  resurrection  and  ascension,  and  to  be  practically 
finished  to  us  in  the  fiirther  prosecution  of  His  work  in  our  be- 
half. It  is  a  blessed  truth  to  us,  then,  that  while  we  celebrate 
His  death,  it  is  in  the  knowledge  also  that  that  death  was  only 
one  of  the  necessary  stages  of  His  progress  towards  the  consum- 
mation of  that  purpose  which  brought  Him  from  heaven  to  earth. 
Let  our  rejoicing  be  complete,  then,  as  we  look  forward  to  this 
consummation,  remembering  that  though  we  here  show  the  Lord's 
death,  it  is  only  ////  He  come.  This  is  not,  therefore,  a  perpetual 
observance,  but  a  temporary.  It  ends  with  the  present  dis- 
pensation ;  ends  when  the  promise  and  the  prophecy  of  this 
death  are  fulfilled  in  the  second  coming  of  the  Lord.  Not 
that  then,  or  through  the  endless  ages  of  futurity,  that  death 
will  be  forgotten,  or  be  less  dear  to  the  hearts  of  His  people  : 
it  will  be  the  theme  of  adoration  through  eternity ;  and  the 
songs  of  praise  which  shall  never  cease  amid  the  glory  of  that 
eternity,  are  the  songs  which  celebrate  this  death.  To  Him  that 
loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  blood ;  to  Him 
who  died  and  rose  again  ;  to  the  Lamb  who  was  slain,  —  these 
are  the  songs  which  shall  ring  throughout  the  celestial  city  for 
ever  and  ever.  But  there  will  be  no  need  of  any  such  commem- 
oration as  we  make  here  to-day.  Our  faith  and  love  will  no 
longer  need  the  quickening  of  this  remembrance,  nor  shall 
the  world  require  any  more  the  repetition  of  this  testimony, 
when  He  who  was  alive  and  was  dead  shall  show  Himself  as 
alive  again,  and  having  the  keys  of  death  and  the  grave ;  that 
will  be  enough  for  us  and  for  all,  —  enough  for  Him  too. 

It  is  not  enough  then,  for  us  or  for  Him,  that  we  be  reminded 
only  of  His  death  in  these  memorials  of  it.  Our  service  is  in- 
complete, and  our  satisfaction  in  it,  if  it  does  not  point  our  hearts 
and  our  hopes  forward  to  this  glorious  hour  when  He  shall  come 
again. 

Accept  it  first,  then,  as  a  truth  asserted  not  merely  in  the  testi- 
monies of  Sacred  Scripture,  but  in  the  very  necessities  of  that 
redeeming  work  He  undertook  for  us.     That  reward  He  was  to 


129 

win  for  us  and  for  Himself  by  His  obedience  unto  death,  He  has 
not  yet  received,  though  he  is  exalted  to  the  throne  of  universal 
empire ;  we  have  not  received,  even  though  our  sins  be  taken 
away  and  our  salvation  made  secure,  —  shall  not  receive,  even 
when  our  souls  shall  be  welcomed  to  His  glory.  There  is  a 
higher  glory  for  both,  and  it  awaits  the  manifestation  of  Himself 
when  He  shall  appear  the  second  time  without  sin  unto  our 
final  and  complete  salvation.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  the 
Scripture  is  so  full  of  it  !  it  is  the  culminating  point  of  all  its 
promise  and  prediction.  The  only  wonder  is  that  it  does  not 
occupy  a  more  prominent  place  in  our  faith  and  expectation,  — 
an  omission,  however,  which  is  happily  becoming  less  in  our 
day,  as  the  thought  and  interest  of  the  Church  at  large  is  more 
directed  to  this  glorious  truth.  After  long  comparative  obscura- 
tion it  is  coming  out  again  into  the  light,  and  to  the  front,  as 
one  of  the  great  forces  of  the  divine  revelation,  and  in  the 
practical  development  of  all  church  life  and  the  prosecution  of 
all  church  work.  It  was  the  animating,  inspiriting  thought  in 
the  church  of  the  apostles  and  the  early  ages  ;  it  is  well  that 
after  so  long  a  time  it  is  resuming  its  place  in  the  faith  and 
interest  of  all  the  Lord's  people.  And  then  the  question  can- 
not but  suggest  itself—  When  will  He  come  1  And  few  questions, 
as  you  know,  have  provoked  so  much  discussion  as  this.  Need 
I  say  that  it  has  never  yet  been  answered  ?  or  say  further,  that 
it  probably  never  will  be  answered  till  it  shall  answer  itself  in  the 
revelation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Himself?  Evidently  it  was  in  the 
hope,  if  not  in  the  faith,  of  the  apostolic  church,  that  the  time  was 
near  at  hand  ;  though  they  did  not  pretend  to  any  positiveness 
in  their  expectation, —  certainly  did  not  assign  any  definite  period 
for  its  fulfilment.  But  it  was  their  comfort  and  their  impulse 
and  their  strength  and  patience  in  all  their  toils  and  tribula- 
tions. It  fills  a  large  space  in  all  the  inspired  Epistles ;  and 
almost  the  closing  words  of  the  sacred  volume  are  an  assertion 
of  it  as  the  great  stimulus  to  Christian  fidelity,  and  the  great 
encouragement  amid  all  adversities.     "  Behold,  I  come  quickly, 

17 


I30 


and  My  reward  is  with  Me."     To  that  promise  of  her  Lord  the 
Church  has  answered  for  eighteen  centuries,  "  Even  so,  Lord 
Jesus  ;  come  quickly."    It  has  not  been  revealed  to  her  when  that 
promise  shall  be  fulfilled.      It  is  not  for  us  to  know  the  times 
and  the  seasons  which  the  Father  hath  put  in  His  own  power. 
Of  that  day  and  hour  knoweth  no  man  nor  angel.     Wisely  and 
mercifully  has  God  withheld  this  knowledge  from  us.     As  in 
regard  to  the  day  of  our  death.  He  leaves  us  in  ignorance,  —  that 
we  may  be  always  on  the  watch  and  always  in  a  state  of  prepa- 
ration for  it,  —  so  with  reference  to  the  great  day  of  His  coming  : 
it  may  be  delayed  for  centuries  yet ;  it  may  not  wait  for  the 
rising  of  to-morrow's  sun  ;  it  will  not  wait  one  moment  beyond 
the  appointed  time.     So  we  stand  always  in  an  attitude  of  ex- 
pectation.    The  outcome  of  all  the  controversies  in  regard  to 
it  has  brought  the  Church  to  this  position  ;  and  vain,  extravagant, 
and  foolish  as  much  of  the  discussion  of  it  has  been,  it  has  not 
been  wasted  if  through  it  we  have  reached  this  wise  conclusion, — 
looking  for  that  blessed  hope  and  the  appearing  of  the  great 
God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.     "  Blessed  is  that  servant 
whom  his  Lord,  when  He  cometh,  shall  find  so  doing."     But  let 
not  hope  deferred  make  our  hearts  sick  with  disappointment, 
nor  disturb  our  faith  in  the  word  on  which  that  hope  is  resting. 
It  is  our  great  mistake  that  we  make  our  short  lives  and  the 
limited  periods  of  human  history  the  measure  of  the  divine 
operation.     But  what  are  all  our  times  to  that  immeasurable 
eternity  through  which  the  providence  of  God  is  working  out 
His  infinite  purpose  ?     A  thousand  years  are  in  His  sight  but 
as  yesterday  when  it  is  past,  and  as  a  watch  in  the  night ;  a 
thousand  years  are  with  the  Lord  but  as  one  day,  and  one  day 
is  as  a  thousand  years.      He  knows  nothing  of  our  divisions  of 
time.     To  Him  there  is  no  boundary  assigned  save  that  of  His 
own  will ;  and,  unaffected  by  all  the  movements  of  human  thought 
and  history.  His  eternal  thought  moves  on   His  undisturbed 
affairs.     We  cannot  hasten   Him,  we  cannot  hinder  Him  ;  but 
surer  than  the  rising  of  the  sun  His  hour  comes,  —  and  then, 


131 


swifter  than  the  morning  Hght,  He  comes.  And  whether  that 
glorious  appearing  shall  burst  upon  our  startled  vision  before 
another  day  shall  dawn,  or  in  some  midnight  of  a  thousand 
ages  hence,  our  interest  and  our  duty,  our  faith  and  hope  and 
all  our  immortal  destinies,  hold  us  to  this  one  position,  —  waiting, 
looking,  longing,  and  ready  always  to  enter  with  Him,  when  He 
comes,  into  His  joy ;  and  far  more  important  for  us,  therefore, 
than  any  question  as  to  times  and  seasons,  is  that  which  relates 
to  the  manner  and  the  purpose  of  His  coming. 

How,  then,  shall  He  come?  And  to  that  question  also, 
though  we  may  give  a  more  definite  reply,  we  can  give  none 
which  shall  approximate  the  full  expression  of  the  truth.  Even 
the  language  of  inspired  description  is  beyond  our  comprehen- 
sion, —  feeble  as  all  human  words  must  be  to  depict  a  glory 
which  human  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  human  ear  heard,  nor  hath 
entered  into  human  heart.  Give  the  widest  range  to  thought, 
the  freest  wing  to  imagination,  even,  and  still  we  cannot  reach 
it, — -can  hardly  come  to  some  dim  and  distant  vision  of  its 
splendors.  In  the  clouds  of  heaven  and  with  great  glory,  with 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  saints  and  angels  around  Him ; 
with  the  overpowering  majesty  of  a  God  embodied  in  the 
form  of  His  glorified  humanity ;  in  the  radiance  of  a  light 
which  shall  turn  the  sun  into  darkness  ;  marshalled  by  all  the 
hosts  of  heaven,  and  amid  the  music  of  celestial  choirs,  —  ah, 
who  can  understand  even  these  poor  attempts  to  express  that 
inexpressible  glory  !  We  may  gain  perhaps  some  slight  concep- 
tion of  it  as  we  go  back  to  the  days  of  His  former  advent,  and 
think  of  it  in  contrast  with  the  humbled,  lowly,  suffering  state  in 
which  we  then  beheld  Him.  As  we  remember  Him  thus,  re- 
calling his  lowly  birth  and  His  life  of  shame  and  persecution, 
how  He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  a  man  of  sorrows 
and  acquainted  with  grief,  the  malice  and  hatred  He  encoun- 
tered. His  toil  and  weariness,  the  tears  He  shed  and  the 
deeper  woes  which  no  tears  could  relieve  ;  as  we  follow  Him  to 
Gethsemane,  to  the  hall  of  judgment  and  the  hill  of  Calvary ; 


132 


even  as  we  here  show  forth  His  death,  —  a  death  amid  the  hor- 
rors of  great  darkness,  when  even  the  Father's  love  and  pity 
seemed  to  have  failed  Him,  and  he  cried  in  the  extremity  of 
His  anguish,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  !  " 
—  remember  all  this,  and  then  uplift  Him  to  a  height  of  honor, 
majesty,  and  glory  at  the  utmost  possible  remove  from  this,  it 
may  be  that  by  such  contrast  we  may  gain  some  glimpse  of  the 
ineffable  splendors  of  His  second  advent.  For  by  all  that 
via  dolorosa  which  He  travelled  during  the  days  of  His  humilia- 
tion He  was  journeying  towards  a  crown  and  kingdom  which 
should  be  the  ample  compensation  for  all  the  trials  and  distresses 
of  His  earthly  pilgrimage.  Low  as  was  the  place  of  His  humili- 
ation, so  high  the  place  of  His  exaltation ;  dark  as  was  the 
day  of  His  toil  and  suffering,  so  resplendent  the  time  of  His 
rest  and  rejoicing ;  painful  and  bitter  His  seeming  defeat,  so 
gladdening  and  complete  his  victory ;  unspeakably  appalling 
the  cross  on  which  He  died,  so  bright  the  lustre  of  the  throne 
He  won,  and  before  which  all  the  principalities  and  powers  of 
earth  and  heaven  bow  down  to  pay  their  homage. 

One  other  question  yet  remains,  —  the  vital  question  as  to  all 
the  pomp  and  splendors  of  that  great  day,  —  For  what  shall  He 
come  ?  And  that,  too,  is  a  larger  question  than  we  can  answer ; 
for  this  is  the  day  for  which  all  other  days  were  made,  —  the 
crisis  of  all  human  history  and  destiny.  It  is  the  day  toward 
which  all  preceding  centuries  have  travelled,  and  for  which  all 
have  been  preparing.  What  all  the  tremendous  issues  of  this 
day  shall  be  who  can  tell  ?  But  this  much  we  may  tell,  as  we 
do  know  that  then  He  shall  come  to  be  glorified  in  His  saints 
and  admired  in  all  them  that  believe.  Whatever  may  be  its  re- 
lations to  the  world,  and  to  the  final  judgment  of  mankind,  and 
to  the  two  eternal,  changeless  states  which  lie  beyond  the  judg- 
ment seat,  it  is  the  time  of  blessedness  and  glory  for  His  people 
all,  and  for  which  all  have  waited,  and  are  waiting  still.  No 
matter  whether  they  be  slumbering  in  the  grave  or  toiling  still 
amid  the  conflicts  and  trials  of  the  earthly  life,   the  flash  of 


133 


that  celestial  light  shall  pierce  the  darkness  of  the  sepulchre, 
and  the  trump  which  announces  His  approach  shall  waken  the 
dead  from  their  sleep,  and  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immor- 
tality (whether  of  the  living  or  the  dead),  and  all  alike  be  raised 
to  meet  Him  and  mingle  with  that  ever-swelling  multitude  which 
no  man  can  number,  of  every  age  and  people,  of  every  time 
and  place,  of  every  tribe  and  tongue,  from  days  before  the 
flood  and  from  all  the  periods  after  it,  from  east  and  west  and 
north  and  south,  from  every  clime  and  continent  and  every 
island  of  the  sea,  from  city  and  desert,  from  graves  where  the 
good  have  lain  for  ages  and  from  sepulchres  which  no  man 
knoweth  and  from  beneath  the  waters,  —  patriarchs,  prophets, 
priests,  martyrs,  and  holy  men  of  all  times,  a  mighty  gathering. 
And  in  the  midst  of  them  all  the  King  in  His  glory ;  and  next 
to  Him  in  our  joy  and  welcome  our  own  beloved  dead,  whose 
faces  we  have  not  seen  for  so  long,  —  the  darlings  whom  we  laid 
in  the  tomb  with  tears  of  bitterest  grief,  but  still  in  hope  of  a 
blessed  reunion  !  and  no  more  to  be  parted,  no  more  tears, 
nor  groans,  nor  separations,  —  forever  with  the  Lord,  and  for- 
ever with  His  glorified  saints,  and  forever  with  our  own  recovered 
lost  and  loved  ones  !  Only  till  He  come  shall  we  watch  and 
wait ;  only  till  He  come  shall  we  hope  and  pray  ;  only  till  He 
come  shall  we  toil  and  suffer  ;  only  till  He  come  this  holy  com- 
munion of  His  body  and  blood,  —  and  then,  when  He  cometh, 
communion  with  Him  and  His  loved  ones  forever  and  forever 
more  ! 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  Sept.  5,  1879. 


THE    END. 


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